“Oh, it can’t be a reference to the fact Harry’s a great Seeker, that’s way too obvious,” she said. “There must be a secret message from Dumbledore hidden in the icing!”
“I don’t think there’s anything hidden in the icing,“ said Scrimgeour, ”but a Snitch would be a very good hiding place for a small object. You know why, I’m sure?“
Harry shrugged, Hermione, however, answered: Harry thought that answering questions correctly was such a deeply ingrained habit she could not suppress the urge.
“Because Snitches have flesh memories,” she said.
“What?” said Harry and Ron together; both considered Hermione’s Quidditch knowledge negligible.
“Correct,” said Scrimgeour. “A Snitch is not touched by bare skin before it is released, not even by the maker, who wears gloves. It carries an enchantment by which it can identify the first human to lay hands upon it, in case of a disputed capture. This Snitch” – he held up the tiny golden ball – “will remember your touch, Potter.
It occurs to me that Dumbledore, who had prodigious magical skill, whatever his other faults, might have enchanted this Snitch so that it will open only for you.“
Harry’s heart was beating rather fast. He was sure that Scrimgeour was right. How could he avoid taking the Snitch with his bare hand in front of the Minister?
“You don’t say anything,“ said Scrimgeour. ”Perhaps you already know what the Snitch contains?“
“No,” said Harry, still wondering how he could appear to touch the Snitch without really doing so. If only he knew Legilimency, really knew it, and could read Hermione’s mind; he could practically hear her brain whizzing beside him.
“Take it,” said Scrimgeour quietly.
Harry met the Minister’s yellow eyes and knew he had no option but to obey. He held out his hand, and Scrimgeour leaned forward again and place the Snitch, slowly and deliberately, into Harry’s palm.
Nothing happened. As Harry’s fingers closed around the Snitch, its tired wings fluttered and were still. Scrimgeour, Ron, and Hermione continued to gaze avidly at the now partially concealed ball, as if still hoping it might transform in some way.
“That was dramatic,” said Harry coolly. Both Ron and Hermione laughed.
“That’s all, then, is it?” asked Hermione, making to raise herself off the sofa.
“Not quite,” said Scrimgeour, who looked bad tempered now. “Dumbledore left you a second bequest, Potter.”
“What is it?” asked Harry, excitement rekindling.
Scrimgeour did not bother to read from the will this time.
“The sword of Godric Gryffindor,” he said. Hermione and Ron both stiffened. Harry looked around for a sign of the ruby-encrusted hilt, but Scrimgeour did not pull the sword from the leather pouch, which in any case looked much too small to contain it.
“So where is it?” Harry asked suspiciously.
“Unfortunately,“ said Scrimgeour, “that sword was not Dumbledore’s to give away. The sword of Godric Gryffindor is an important historical artifact, and as such, belongs–”
“It belongs to Harry!” said Hermione hotly. “It chose him, he was the one who found it, it came to him out of the Sorting Hat–”
“According to reliable historical sources, the sword may present itself to any worthy Gryffindor,” said Scrimgeour. “That does not make it the exclusive property of Mr. Potter, whatever Dumbledore may have decided.” Scrimgeour scratched his badly shaven cheek, scrutinizing Harry. “Why do you think–?”
“–Dumbledore wanted to give me the sword?“ said Harry, struggling to keep his temper. ”Maybe he thought it would look nice on my wall.“
“This is not a joke, Potter!“ growled Scrimgeour. ”Was it because Dumbledore believed that only the sword of Godric Gryffindor could defeat the Heir of Slytherin?
Did he wish to give you that sword, Potter, because he believed, as do many, that you are the one destined to destroy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?“
“Interesting theory,” said Harry. “Has anyone ever tried sticking a sword in Voldemort? Maybe the Ministry should put some people onto that, instead of wasting their time stripping down Deluminators or covering up breakouts from Azkaban. So this is what you’ve been doing, Minister, shut up in your office, trying to break open a Snitch? People are dying – I was nearly one of them – Voldemort chased me across three countries, he killed Mad-Eye Moody, but there’s no word about any of that from the Ministry, has there? And you still expect us to cooperate with you!”
“You go too far!” shouted Scrimgeour, standing up: Harry jumped to his feet too. Scrimgeour limped toward Harry and jabbed him hard in the chest with the point of his wand; It singed a hole in Harry’s T-shirt like a lit cigarette.
“Oi!” said Ron, jumping up and raising his own wand, but Harry said, “No! D’you want to give him an excuse to arrest us?”
“Remembered you’re not at school, have you?“ said Scrimgeour breathing hard into Harry’s face. ”Remembered that I am not Dumbledore, who forgave your insolence and insubordination? You may wear that scar like a crown, Potter, but it is not up to a seventeen-year-old boy to tell me how to do my job! It’s time you learned some respect!“
“It’s time you earned it.” said Harry.
The floor trembled; there was a sound of running footsteps, then the door to the sitting room burst open and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley ran in.
“We – we thought we heard –“ began Mr. Weasley, looking thoroughly alarmed at the sight of Harry and the Minister virtually nose to nose.
“ – raised voices,” panted Mrs. Weasley.
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Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
wordlessly at the place where he
wordlessly at the place where he thought Dumbledore's body must lie, however, he saw people beginning to move toward it.
“What're they all lookin’ at?” said Hagrid, as he and Harry approached the castle front, Fang keeping as close as he could to their ankles. “Wha's that lyin’ on
the grass?” Hagrid added sharply, heading now toward the foot of the Astronomy Tower, where a small crowd was congregating. “See it, Harry? Right at the foot of the
tower? Under where the Mark... blimey... yeh don’ think someone got thrown—?”
Hagrid fell silent, the thought apparently too horrible to express aloud. Harry walked alongside him, feeling the aches and pains in his face and his legs where the
various hexes of the last half hour had hit him, though in an oddly detached way, as though somebody near him was suffering them. What was real and inescapable was the
awful pressing feeling in his chest...
He and Hagrid moved, dreamlike, through the murmuring crowd to the very front, where the dumbstruck students and teachers had left a gap.
Harry heard Hagrid's moan of pain and shock, but he did not stop; he walked slowly forward until he reached the place where Dumbledore lay and crouched down beside him.
Harry had known there was no hope from the moment that the full Body-Bind Curse Dumbledore had placed upon him lifted, known that it could have happened only because
its caster was dead, but there was still no preparation for seeing him here, spread-eagled, broken: the greatest wizard Harry had ever, or would ever, meet.
Dumbledore's eyes were closed; but for the strange angle of his arms and legs, he might have been sleeping. Harry reached out, straightened the half-moon spectacles
upon the crooked nose, and wiped a trickle of blood from the mouth with his own sleeve. Then he gazed down at the wise old face and tried to absorb the enormous and
incomprehensible truth: that never again would Dumbledore speak to him, never again could he help...
The crowd murmured behind Harry. After what seemed like a long time, he became aware that he was kneeling upon something hard and looked down.
The locket they had managed to steal so many hours before had fallen out of Dumbledore's pocket. It had opened, perhaps due to the force with which it hit the ground.
And although he could not feel more shock or horror or sadness than he felt already, Harry knew, as he picked it up, that there was something wrong—
He turned the locket over in his hands. This was neither as large as the locket he remembered seeing in the Pensieve, nor were there any markings upon it, no sign of
the ornate S that was supposed to be Slytherin's mark. Moreover, there was nothing inside but for a scrap of folded parchment wedged tightly into the place where a
portrait should have been.
Automatically, without really thinking about what he was doing, Harry pulled out the fragment of parchment, opened it, and read by the light of the many wands that had
now been lit behind him:
To the Dark Lord
I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who dicovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it
as soon as I can.
I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more.
R.A.B.
Harry neither knew nor cared what the message meant. Only one thing mattered: this was not a Horcrux. Dumbledore had weakened himself by drinking that terrible potion
for nothing. Harry crumpled the parchment in his hand, and his eyes burned with tears as behind him Fang began to howl.
“What're they all lookin’ at?” said Hagrid, as he and Harry approached the castle front, Fang keeping as close as he could to their ankles. “Wha's that lyin’ on
the grass?” Hagrid added sharply, heading now toward the foot of the Astronomy Tower, where a small crowd was congregating. “See it, Harry? Right at the foot of the
tower? Under where the Mark... blimey... yeh don’ think someone got thrown—?”
Hagrid fell silent, the thought apparently too horrible to express aloud. Harry walked alongside him, feeling the aches and pains in his face and his legs where the
various hexes of the last half hour had hit him, though in an oddly detached way, as though somebody near him was suffering them. What was real and inescapable was the
awful pressing feeling in his chest...
He and Hagrid moved, dreamlike, through the murmuring crowd to the very front, where the dumbstruck students and teachers had left a gap.
Harry heard Hagrid's moan of pain and shock, but he did not stop; he walked slowly forward until he reached the place where Dumbledore lay and crouched down beside him.
Harry had known there was no hope from the moment that the full Body-Bind Curse Dumbledore had placed upon him lifted, known that it could have happened only because
its caster was dead, but there was still no preparation for seeing him here, spread-eagled, broken: the greatest wizard Harry had ever, or would ever, meet.
Dumbledore's eyes were closed; but for the strange angle of his arms and legs, he might have been sleeping. Harry reached out, straightened the half-moon spectacles
upon the crooked nose, and wiped a trickle of blood from the mouth with his own sleeve. Then he gazed down at the wise old face and tried to absorb the enormous and
incomprehensible truth: that never again would Dumbledore speak to him, never again could he help...
The crowd murmured behind Harry. After what seemed like a long time, he became aware that he was kneeling upon something hard and looked down.
The locket they had managed to steal so many hours before had fallen out of Dumbledore's pocket. It had opened, perhaps due to the force with which it hit the ground.
And although he could not feel more shock or horror or sadness than he felt already, Harry knew, as he picked it up, that there was something wrong—
He turned the locket over in his hands. This was neither as large as the locket he remembered seeing in the Pensieve, nor were there any markings upon it, no sign of
the ornate S that was supposed to be Slytherin's mark. Moreover, there was nothing inside but for a scrap of folded parchment wedged tightly into the place where a
portrait should have been.
Automatically, without really thinking about what he was doing, Harry pulled out the fragment of parchment, opened it, and read by the light of the many wands that had
now been lit behind him:
To the Dark Lord
I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who dicovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it
as soon as I can.
I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more.
R.A.B.
Harry neither knew nor cared what the message meant. Only one thing mattered: this was not a Horcrux. Dumbledore had weakened himself by drinking that terrible potion
for nothing. Harry crumpled the parchment in his hand, and his eyes burned with tears as behind him Fang began to howl.
“I was bindin’ up a couple o’
“I was bindin’ up a couple o’ Bowtruckle legs when I heard ‘em coming,” said Hagrid sadly, still staring at his wrecked cabin. “They'll bin burnt ter twigs, poor
little things...”
“Hagrid...”
“But what happened, Harry? I jus’ saw them Death Eaters runnin’ down from the castle, but what the ruddy hell was Snape doin’ with ‘em? Where's he gone—was he
chasin’ them?”
“He...” Harry cleared his throat; it was dry from panic and the smoke. “Hagrid, he killed...”
“Killed?” said Hagrid loudly, staring down at Harry. “Snape killed? What're yeh on abou', Harry?”
“Dumbledore,” said Harry. “Snape killed ... Dumbledore.”
Hagrid simply looked at him, the little of his face that could be seen completely blank, uncomprehending.
“Dumbledore what, Harry?”
“He's dead. Snape killed him...”
“Don’ say that,” said Hagrid roughly. “Snape kill Dumbledore—don’ be stupid, Harry. Wha's made yeh say tha'?”
“I saw it happen.”
“Yeh couldn’ have.”
“I saw it, Hagrid.”
Hagrid shook his head; his expression was disbelieving but sympathetic, and Harry knew that Hagrid thought he had sustained a blow to the head, that he was confused,
perhaps by the after-effects of a jinx...
“What musta happened was, Dumbledore musta told Snape ter go with them Death Eaters,” Hagrid said confidently. “I suppose he's gotta keep his cover. Look, let's get
yeh back up ter the school. Come on, Harry...”
Harry did not attempt to argue or explain. He was still shaking uncontrollably. Hagrid would find out soon enough, too soon... as they directed their steps back toward
the castle, Harry saw that many of its windows were lit now. He could imagine, clearly, the scenes inside as people moved from room to room, telling each other that
Death Eaters had got in, that the Mark was shining over Hogwarts, that somebody must have been killed...
The oak front doors stood open ahead of them, light flooding out onto the drive and the lawn. Slowly, uncertainly, dressing-gowned people were creeping down the steps,
looking around nervously for some sign of the Death Eaters who had fled into the night. Harry's eyes, however, were fixed upon the ground at the foot of the tallest
tower. He imagined that he could see a black, huddled mass lying in the grass there, though he was really too far away to see anything of the sort. Even as he stared
little things...”
“Hagrid...”
“But what happened, Harry? I jus’ saw them Death Eaters runnin’ down from the castle, but what the ruddy hell was Snape doin’ with ‘em? Where's he gone—was he
chasin’ them?”
“He...” Harry cleared his throat; it was dry from panic and the smoke. “Hagrid, he killed...”
“Killed?” said Hagrid loudly, staring down at Harry. “Snape killed? What're yeh on abou', Harry?”
“Dumbledore,” said Harry. “Snape killed ... Dumbledore.”
Hagrid simply looked at him, the little of his face that could be seen completely blank, uncomprehending.
“Dumbledore what, Harry?”
“He's dead. Snape killed him...”
“Don’ say that,” said Hagrid roughly. “Snape kill Dumbledore—don’ be stupid, Harry. Wha's made yeh say tha'?”
“I saw it happen.”
“Yeh couldn’ have.”
“I saw it, Hagrid.”
Hagrid shook his head; his expression was disbelieving but sympathetic, and Harry knew that Hagrid thought he had sustained a blow to the head, that he was confused,
perhaps by the after-effects of a jinx...
“What musta happened was, Dumbledore musta told Snape ter go with them Death Eaters,” Hagrid said confidently. “I suppose he's gotta keep his cover. Look, let's get
yeh back up ter the school. Come on, Harry...”
Harry did not attempt to argue or explain. He was still shaking uncontrollably. Hagrid would find out soon enough, too soon... as they directed their steps back toward
the castle, Harry saw that many of its windows were lit now. He could imagine, clearly, the scenes inside as people moved from room to room, telling each other that
Death Eaters had got in, that the Mark was shining over Hogwarts, that somebody must have been killed...
The oak front doors stood open ahead of them, light flooding out onto the drive and the lawn. Slowly, uncertainly, dressing-gowned people were creeping down the steps,
looking around nervously for some sign of the Death Eaters who had fled into the night. Harry's eyes, however, were fixed upon the ground at the foot of the tallest
tower. He imagined that he could see a black, huddled mass lying in the grass there, though he was really too far away to see anything of the sort. Even as he stared
And he slashed at the air
And he slashed at the air: Harry felt a white-hot, whiplike something hit him across the face and was slammed backward into the ground. Spots of light burst in front of
his eyes and for a moment all the breath seemed to have gone from his body, then he heard a rush of wings above him and something enormous obscured the stars. Buckbeak
had flown at Snape, who staggered backward as the razor-sharp claws slashed at him. As Harry raised himself into a sitting position, his head still swimming from its
last contact with the ground, he saw Snape running as hard as he could, the enormous beast flapping behind him and screeching as Harry had never heard him screech—
Harry struggled to his feet, looking around groggily for his wand, hoping to give chase again, but even as his fingers fumbled in the grass, discarding twigs, he knew
it would be too late, and sure enough, by the time he had located his wand, he turned only to see the hippogriff circling the gates. Snape had managed to Disapparate
just beyond the school's boundaries.
“Hagrid,” muttered Harry, still dazed, looking around. “HAGRID?”
He stumbled toward the burning house as an enormous figure emerged from out of the flames carrying Fang on his back. With a cry of thankfulness, Harry sank to his
knees; he was shaking in every limb, his body ached all over, and his breath came in painful stabs.
“Yeh all righ', Harry? Yeh all righ'? Speak ter me, Harry...”
Hagrid's huge, hairy face was swimming above Harry, blocking out the stars. Harry could smell burnt wood and dog hair; he put out a hand and felt Fang's reassuringly
warm and alive body quivering beside him.
“I'm all right,” panted Harry. “Are you?”
“Course I am... take more'n that ter finish me.”
Hagrid put his hands under Harry's arms and raised him up with such force that Harry's feet momentarily left the ground before Hagrid set him upright again. He could
see blood trickling down Hagrid's cheek from a deep cut under one eye, which was swelling rapidly.
“We should put out your house,” said Harry, “the charm's Aguamenti ...”
“Knew it was summat like that,” mumbled Hagrid, and he raised a smoldering pink, flowery umbrella and said, “Aguamenti!”
A jet of water flew out of the umbrella tip. Harry raised his wand arm, which felt like lead, and murmured “Aguamenti” too: together, he and Hagrid poured water on
the house until the last flame was extinguished.
“'S not too bad,” said Hagrid hopefully a few minutes later, looking at the smoking wreck. “Nothin’ Dumbledore won’ be able to put right...”
Harry felt a searing pain in his stomach at the sound of the name. In the silence and the stillness, horror rose inside him.
“Hagrid ...”
his eyes and for a moment all the breath seemed to have gone from his body, then he heard a rush of wings above him and something enormous obscured the stars. Buckbeak
had flown at Snape, who staggered backward as the razor-sharp claws slashed at him. As Harry raised himself into a sitting position, his head still swimming from its
last contact with the ground, he saw Snape running as hard as he could, the enormous beast flapping behind him and screeching as Harry had never heard him screech—
Harry struggled to his feet, looking around groggily for his wand, hoping to give chase again, but even as his fingers fumbled in the grass, discarding twigs, he knew
it would be too late, and sure enough, by the time he had located his wand, he turned only to see the hippogriff circling the gates. Snape had managed to Disapparate
just beyond the school's boundaries.
“Hagrid,” muttered Harry, still dazed, looking around. “HAGRID?”
He stumbled toward the burning house as an enormous figure emerged from out of the flames carrying Fang on his back. With a cry of thankfulness, Harry sank to his
knees; he was shaking in every limb, his body ached all over, and his breath came in painful stabs.
“Yeh all righ', Harry? Yeh all righ'? Speak ter me, Harry...”
Hagrid's huge, hairy face was swimming above Harry, blocking out the stars. Harry could smell burnt wood and dog hair; he put out a hand and felt Fang's reassuringly
warm and alive body quivering beside him.
“I'm all right,” panted Harry. “Are you?”
“Course I am... take more'n that ter finish me.”
Hagrid put his hands under Harry's arms and raised him up with such force that Harry's feet momentarily left the ground before Hagrid set him upright again. He could
see blood trickling down Hagrid's cheek from a deep cut under one eye, which was swelling rapidly.
“We should put out your house,” said Harry, “the charm's Aguamenti ...”
“Knew it was summat like that,” mumbled Hagrid, and he raised a smoldering pink, flowery umbrella and said, “Aguamenti!”
A jet of water flew out of the umbrella tip. Harry raised his wand arm, which felt like lead, and murmured “Aguamenti” too: together, he and Hagrid poured water on
the house until the last flame was extinguished.
“'S not too bad,” said Hagrid hopefully a few minutes later, looking at the smoking wreck. “Nothin’ Dumbledore won’ be able to put right...”
Harry felt a searing pain in his stomach at the sound of the name. In the silence and the stillness, horror rose inside him.
“Hagrid ...”
“No Unforgivable Curses from you, Potter
“No Unforgivable Curses from you, Potter!” he shouted over the rushing of the flames, Hagrid's yells, and the wild yelping of the trapped Fang. “You haven't got the
nerve or the ability—”
“Incarc—"Harry roared, but Snape deflected the spell with an almost lazy flick of his arm.
“Fight back!” Harry screamed at him. “Fight back, you cowardly—”
“Coward, did you call me, Potter?” shouted Snape. “Your father would never attack me unless it was four on one, what would you call him, I wonder?”
“Stupe—”
“Blocked again and again and again until you learn to keep your mouth shut and your mind closed, Potter!” sneered Snape, deflecting the curse once more. “Now come!”
he shouted at the huge Death Eater behind Harry. “It is time to be gone, before the Ministry turns up—”
“Impedi—”
But before he could finish this jinx, excruciating pain hit Harry; he keeled over in the grass. Someone was screaming, he would surely die of this agony, Snape was
going to torture him to death or madness—
“No!” roared Snape's voice and the pain stopped as suddenly as it had started; Harry lay curled on the dark grass, clutching his wand and panting; somewhere overhead
Snape was shouting, “Have you forgotten our orders? Potter belongs to the Dark Lord—we are to leave him! Go! Go!”
And Harry felt the ground shudder under his face as the brother and sister and the enormous Death Eater obeyed, running toward the gates. Harry uttered an inarticulate
yell of rage: in that instant, he cared not whether he lived or died. Pushing himself to his feet again, he staggered blindly toward Snape, the man he now hated as much
as he hated Voldemort himself—
“Sectum—”
Snape flicked his wand and the curse was repelled yet again; but Harry was mere feet away now and he could see Snape's face clearly at last: he was no longer sneering
or jeering; the blazing flames showed a face full of rage. Mustering all his powers of concentration, Harry thought, Levi—
“No, Potter!” screamed Snape. There was a loud BANG and Harry was soaring backward, hitting the ground hard again, and this time his wand flew out of his hand. He
could hear Hagrid yelling and Fang howling as Snape closed in and looked down on him where he lay, wandless and defenseless as Dumbledore had been. Snape's pale face,
illuminated by the flaming cabin, was suffused with hatred just as it had been before he had cursed Dumbledore.
“You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them—I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you'd turn my inventions on me, like your filthy father,
would you? I don't think so... no!”
Harry had dived for his wand; Snape shot a hex at it and it flew feet away into the darkness and out of sight.
“Kill me then,” panted Harry, who felt no fear at all, but only rage and contempt. “Kill me like you killed him, you coward—”
“DON'T—” screamed Snape, and his face was suddenly demented, inhuman, as though he was in as much pain as the yelping, howling dog stuck in the burning house behind
them, “—CALL ME COWARD!”
nerve or the ability—”
“Incarc—"Harry roared, but Snape deflected the spell with an almost lazy flick of his arm.
“Fight back!” Harry screamed at him. “Fight back, you cowardly—”
“Coward, did you call me, Potter?” shouted Snape. “Your father would never attack me unless it was four on one, what would you call him, I wonder?”
“Stupe—”
“Blocked again and again and again until you learn to keep your mouth shut and your mind closed, Potter!” sneered Snape, deflecting the curse once more. “Now come!”
he shouted at the huge Death Eater behind Harry. “It is time to be gone, before the Ministry turns up—”
“Impedi—”
But before he could finish this jinx, excruciating pain hit Harry; he keeled over in the grass. Someone was screaming, he would surely die of this agony, Snape was
going to torture him to death or madness—
“No!” roared Snape's voice and the pain stopped as suddenly as it had started; Harry lay curled on the dark grass, clutching his wand and panting; somewhere overhead
Snape was shouting, “Have you forgotten our orders? Potter belongs to the Dark Lord—we are to leave him! Go! Go!”
And Harry felt the ground shudder under his face as the brother and sister and the enormous Death Eater obeyed, running toward the gates. Harry uttered an inarticulate
yell of rage: in that instant, he cared not whether he lived or died. Pushing himself to his feet again, he staggered blindly toward Snape, the man he now hated as much
as he hated Voldemort himself—
“Sectum—”
Snape flicked his wand and the curse was repelled yet again; but Harry was mere feet away now and he could see Snape's face clearly at last: he was no longer sneering
or jeering; the blazing flames showed a face full of rage. Mustering all his powers of concentration, Harry thought, Levi—
“No, Potter!” screamed Snape. There was a loud BANG and Harry was soaring backward, hitting the ground hard again, and this time his wand flew out of his hand. He
could hear Hagrid yelling and Fang howling as Snape closed in and looked down on him where he lay, wandless and defenseless as Dumbledore had been. Snape's pale face,
illuminated by the flaming cabin, was suffused with hatred just as it had been before he had cursed Dumbledore.
“You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them—I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you'd turn my inventions on me, like your filthy father,
would you? I don't think so... no!”
Harry had dived for his wand; Snape shot a hex at it and it flew feet away into the darkness and out of sight.
“Kill me then,” panted Harry, who felt no fear at all, but only rage and contempt. “Kill me like you killed him, you coward—”
“DON'T—” screamed Snape, and his face was suddenly demented, inhuman, as though he was in as much pain as the yelping, howling dog stuck in the burning house behind
them, “—CALL ME COWARD!”
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Dumbledore opened his mouth to
Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. Behind Harry, Fawkes the phoenix let out a low, soft, musical cry. To Harry's intense embarrassment, he
suddenly realized that Dumbledore's bright blue eyes looked rather watery, and stared hastily at his own knees. When Dumbledore spoke, however, his voice was quite
steady.
“I am very touched, Harry.”
“Scrimgeour wanted to know where you go when you're not at Hogwarts,” said Harry, still looking fixedly at his knees.
“Yes, he is very nosy about that,” said Dumbledore, now sounding cheerful, and Harry thought it safe to look up again. “He has even attempted to have me followed.
Amusing, really. He set Dawlish to tail me. It wasn't kind. I have already been forced to jinx Dawlish once; I did it again with the greatest regret.”
“So they still don't know where you go?” asked Harry, hoping for more information on this intriguing subject, but Dumbledore merely smiled over the top of his half-
moon spectacles.
“No, they don't, and the time is not quite right for you to know either. Now, I suggest we press on, unless there's anything else—?”
“There is, actually, sir,” said Harry. “It's about Malfoy and Snape.”
“Professor Snape, Harry.”
“Yes, sir. I overheard them during Professor Slughorn's party... well, I followed them, actually...”
Dumbledore listened to Harry's story with an impassive face. When Harry had finished he did not speak for a few moments, then said, “Thank you for telling me this,
Harry, but I suggest that you put it out of your mind. I do not think that it is of great importance.”
“Not of great importance?” repeated Harry incredulously. “Professor, did you understand—?”
“Yes, Harry, blessed as I am with extraordinary brainpower, I understood everything you told me,” said Dumbledore, a little sharply. “I think you might even consider
the possibility that I understood more than you did. Again, I am glad that you have confided in me, but let me reassure you that you have not told me anything that
causes me disquiet.”
Harry sat in seething silence, glaring at Dumbledore. What was going on? Did this mean that Dumbledore had indeed ordered Snape to find out what Malfoy was doing, in
which case he had already heard everything Harry had just told him from Snape? Or was he really worried by what he had heard, but pretending not to be?
“So, sir,” said Harry, in what he hoped was a polite, calm voice, “you definitely still trust — ?”
“I have been tolerant enough to answer that question already,” said Dumbledore, but he did not sound very tolerant anymore. “My answer has not changed.”
“I should think not,” said a snide voice; Phineas Nigellus was evidently only pretending to be asleep. Dumbledore ignored him.
“And now, Harry, I must insist that we press on. I have more important things to discuss with you this evening.”
Harry sat there feeling mutinous. How would it be if he refused to permit the change of subject, if he insisted upon arguing the case against Malfoy? As though he had
read Harry's mind, Dumbledore shook his head.
“Ah, Harry, how often this happens, even between the best of friends! Each of us believes that what he has to say is much more important than anything the other might
have to contribute!”
“I don't think what you've got to say is unimportant, sir,” said Harry stiffly.
“Well, you are quite right, because it is not,” said Dumbledore briskly. “I have two more memories to show you this evening, both obtained with enormous difficulty,
and the second of them is, I think, the most important I have collected.”
suddenly realized that Dumbledore's bright blue eyes looked rather watery, and stared hastily at his own knees. When Dumbledore spoke, however, his voice was quite
steady.
“I am very touched, Harry.”
“Scrimgeour wanted to know where you go when you're not at Hogwarts,” said Harry, still looking fixedly at his knees.
“Yes, he is very nosy about that,” said Dumbledore, now sounding cheerful, and Harry thought it safe to look up again. “He has even attempted to have me followed.
Amusing, really. He set Dawlish to tail me. It wasn't kind. I have already been forced to jinx Dawlish once; I did it again with the greatest regret.”
“So they still don't know where you go?” asked Harry, hoping for more information on this intriguing subject, but Dumbledore merely smiled over the top of his half-
moon spectacles.
“No, they don't, and the time is not quite right for you to know either. Now, I suggest we press on, unless there's anything else—?”
“There is, actually, sir,” said Harry. “It's about Malfoy and Snape.”
“Professor Snape, Harry.”
“Yes, sir. I overheard them during Professor Slughorn's party... well, I followed them, actually...”
Dumbledore listened to Harry's story with an impassive face. When Harry had finished he did not speak for a few moments, then said, “Thank you for telling me this,
Harry, but I suggest that you put it out of your mind. I do not think that it is of great importance.”
“Not of great importance?” repeated Harry incredulously. “Professor, did you understand—?”
“Yes, Harry, blessed as I am with extraordinary brainpower, I understood everything you told me,” said Dumbledore, a little sharply. “I think you might even consider
the possibility that I understood more than you did. Again, I am glad that you have confided in me, but let me reassure you that you have not told me anything that
causes me disquiet.”
Harry sat in seething silence, glaring at Dumbledore. What was going on? Did this mean that Dumbledore had indeed ordered Snape to find out what Malfoy was doing, in
which case he had already heard everything Harry had just told him from Snape? Or was he really worried by what he had heard, but pretending not to be?
“So, sir,” said Harry, in what he hoped was a polite, calm voice, “you definitely still trust — ?”
“I have been tolerant enough to answer that question already,” said Dumbledore, but he did not sound very tolerant anymore. “My answer has not changed.”
“I should think not,” said a snide voice; Phineas Nigellus was evidently only pretending to be asleep. Dumbledore ignored him.
“And now, Harry, I must insist that we press on. I have more important things to discuss with you this evening.”
Harry sat there feeling mutinous. How would it be if he refused to permit the change of subject, if he insisted upon arguing the case against Malfoy? As though he had
read Harry's mind, Dumbledore shook his head.
“Ah, Harry, how often this happens, even between the best of friends! Each of us believes that what he has to say is much more important than anything the other might
have to contribute!”
“I don't think what you've got to say is unimportant, sir,” said Harry stiffly.
“Well, you are quite right, because it is not,” said Dumbledore briskly. “I have two more memories to show you this evening, both obtained with enormous difficulty,
and the second of them is, I think, the most important I have collected.”
“How cool will it be when we can just
“How cool will it be when we can just —” Seamus clicked his ringers to indicate disappearance. “Me cousin Fergus does it just to annoy me, you wait till I can do it
back... he'll never have another peaceful moment...”
Lost in visions of this happy prospect, he flicked his wand a little too enthusiastically, so that instead of producing the fountain of pure water that was the object
of today's Charms lesson, he let out a hoselike jet that ricocheted off the ceiling and knocked Professor Flitwick flat on his face.
“Harry's already Apparated,” Ron told a slightly abashed Seamus, after Professor Flitwick had dried himself off with a wave of his wand and set Seamus lines (“I am a
wizard, not a baboon brandishing a stick.”) “Dum—er—someone took him. Side-Along-Apparition, you know.”
“Whoa!” whispered Seamus, and he, Dean, and Neville put their heads a little closer to hear what Apparition felt like. For the rest of the day, Harry was besieged
with requests from the other sixth years to describe the sensation of Apparition. All of them seemed awed, rather than put off, when he told them how uncomfortable it
was, and he was still answering detailed questions at ten to eight that evening, when he was forced to lie and say that he needed to return a book to the library, so as
to escape in time for his lesson with Dumbledore.
The lamps in Dumbledore's office were lit, the portraits of previous headmasters were snoring gently in their frames, and the Pensieve was ready upon the desk once
more. Dumbledore's hands lay on either side of it, the right one as blackened and burnt-looking as ever. It did not seem to have healed at all and Harry wondered, for
perhaps the hundredth time, what had caused such a distinctive injury, but did not ask; Dumbledore had said that he would know eventually and there was, in any case,
another subject he wanted to discuss. But before Harry could say anything about Snape and Malfoy, Dumbledore spoke.
“I hear that you met the Minister of Magic over Christmas?”
“Yes,” said Harry. “He's not very happy with me.”
“No,” sighed Dumbledore. “He is not very happy with me either. We must try not to sink beneath our anguish, Harry, but battle on.”
Harry grinned.
“He wanted me to tell the wizarding community that the Ministry's doing a wonderful job.”
Dumbledore smiled.
“It was Fudge's idea originally, you know. During his last days in office, when he was trying desperately to cling to his post, he sought a meeting with you, hoping
that you would give him your support —”
“After everything Fudge did last year?” said Harry angrily. “After Umbridge?”
“I told Cornelius there was no chance of it, but the idea did not die when he left office. Within hours of Scrimgeour's appointment we met and he demanded that I
arrange a meeting with you —”
“So that's why you argued!” Harry blurted out. “It was in the Daily Prophet.”
“The Prophet is bound to report the truth occasionally,” said Dumbledore, “if only accidentally. Yes, that was why we argued. Well, it appears that Rufus found a way
to corner you at last.”
“He accused me of being ‘Dumbledore's man through and through'.”
“How very rude of him.”
“I told him I was.”
back... he'll never have another peaceful moment...”
Lost in visions of this happy prospect, he flicked his wand a little too enthusiastically, so that instead of producing the fountain of pure water that was the object
of today's Charms lesson, he let out a hoselike jet that ricocheted off the ceiling and knocked Professor Flitwick flat on his face.
“Harry's already Apparated,” Ron told a slightly abashed Seamus, after Professor Flitwick had dried himself off with a wave of his wand and set Seamus lines (“I am a
wizard, not a baboon brandishing a stick.”) “Dum—er—someone took him. Side-Along-Apparition, you know.”
“Whoa!” whispered Seamus, and he, Dean, and Neville put their heads a little closer to hear what Apparition felt like. For the rest of the day, Harry was besieged
with requests from the other sixth years to describe the sensation of Apparition. All of them seemed awed, rather than put off, when he told them how uncomfortable it
was, and he was still answering detailed questions at ten to eight that evening, when he was forced to lie and say that he needed to return a book to the library, so as
to escape in time for his lesson with Dumbledore.
The lamps in Dumbledore's office were lit, the portraits of previous headmasters were snoring gently in their frames, and the Pensieve was ready upon the desk once
more. Dumbledore's hands lay on either side of it, the right one as blackened and burnt-looking as ever. It did not seem to have healed at all and Harry wondered, for
perhaps the hundredth time, what had caused such a distinctive injury, but did not ask; Dumbledore had said that he would know eventually and there was, in any case,
another subject he wanted to discuss. But before Harry could say anything about Snape and Malfoy, Dumbledore spoke.
“I hear that you met the Minister of Magic over Christmas?”
“Yes,” said Harry. “He's not very happy with me.”
“No,” sighed Dumbledore. “He is not very happy with me either. We must try not to sink beneath our anguish, Harry, but battle on.”
Harry grinned.
“He wanted me to tell the wizarding community that the Ministry's doing a wonderful job.”
Dumbledore smiled.
“It was Fudge's idea originally, you know. During his last days in office, when he was trying desperately to cling to his post, he sought a meeting with you, hoping
that you would give him your support —”
“After everything Fudge did last year?” said Harry angrily. “After Umbridge?”
“I told Cornelius there was no chance of it, but the idea did not die when he left office. Within hours of Scrimgeour's appointment we met and he demanded that I
arrange a meeting with you —”
“So that's why you argued!” Harry blurted out. “It was in the Daily Prophet.”
“The Prophet is bound to report the truth occasionally,” said Dumbledore, “if only accidentally. Yes, that was why we argued. Well, it appears that Rufus found a way
to corner you at last.”
“He accused me of being ‘Dumbledore's man through and through'.”
“How very rude of him.”
“I told him I was.”
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Chapter 6 Draco's Detour
Harry remained within the confines of the Burrow's garden over the next few weeks. He spent most of his days playing two-a-side Quidditch in the Weasleys’ orchard (he and Hermione against Ron and Ginny; Hermione was dreadful and Ginny good, so they were reasonably well matched) and his evenings eating triple helpings of everything Mrs. Weasley put in front of him.
It would have been a happy, peaceful holiday had it not been for the stories of disappearances, odd accidents, even of deaths now appearing almost daily in the Prophet. Sometimes Bill and Mr. Weasley brought home news before it even reached the paper. To Mrs. Weasley's displeasure, Harry's sixteenth birthday celebrations were marred by grisly tidings brought to the party by Remus Lupin, who was looking gaunt and grim, his brown hair streaked liberally with gray, his clothes more ragged and patched than ever.
“There have been another couple of dementor attacks,” he announced, as Mrs. Weasley passed him a large slice of birthday cake. “And they've found Igor Karkaroff's body in a shack up north. The Dark Mark had been set over it... well, frankly, I'm surprised he stayed alive for even a year after deserting the Death Eaters; Sirius's brother, Regulus, only managed a few days as far as I can remember.”
“Yes, well,” said Mrs. Weasley, frowning, “perhaps we should talk about something diff...”
“Did you hear about Florean Fortescue, Remus?” asked Bill, who was being plied with wine by Fleur. “The man who ran—”
“— the ice-cream place in Diagon Alley?” Harry interrupted, with an unpleasant, hollow sensation in the pit of his stomach. “He used to give me free ice creams. What's happened to him?”
“Dragged off, by the look of his place.”
“Why?” asked Ron, while Mrs. Weasley pointedly glared at Bill.
“Who knows? He must've upset them somehow. He was a good man, Florean.”
“Talking of Diagon Alley,” said Mr. Weasley, “looks like Ollivander's gone too.”
“The wand-maker?” said Ginny, looking startled.
“That's the one. Shop's empty. No sign of a struggle. No one knows whether he left voluntarily or was kidnapped.”
“But wands—what'll people do for wands?”
“They'll make do with other makers,” said Lupin. “But Ollivander was the best, and if the other side have got him it's not so good for us.”
The day after this rather gloomy birthday tea, their letters and booklists arrived from Hogwarts. Harry's included a surprise: he had been made Quidditch Captain.
“That gives you equal status with prefects!” cried Hermione happily. “You can use our special bathroom now and everything!”
“Wow, I remember when Charlie wore one of these,” said Ron, examining the badge with glee. “Harry, this is so cool, you're my Captain... if you let me back on the team, I suppose, ha ha...”
“Well, I don't suppose we can put off a trip to Diagon Alley much longer now you've got these,” sighed Mrs. Weasley, looking down Ron's booklist. “We'll go on Saturday as long as your father doesn't have to go into work again. I'm not going there without him.”
“Mum, d'you honestly think You-Know-Who's going to be hiding behind a bookshelf in Flourish and Blotts?” sniggered Ron.
“Fortescue and Ollivander went on holiday, did they?” said Mrs. Weasley, firing up at once. “If you think security's a laughing matter you can stay behind and I'll get your things myself...”
“No, I wanna come, I want to see Fred and George's shop!” said Ron hastily.
“Then you just buck up your ideas, young man, before I decide you're too immature to come with us!” said Mrs. Weasley angrily, snatching up her clock, all nine hands of which were still pointing at mortal peril, and balancing it on top of a pile of just-laundered towels. “And that goes for returning to Hogwarts as well!”
Ron turned to stare incredulously at Harry as his mother hoisted the laundry basket and the teetering clock into her arms and stormed out of the room.
“Blimey... you can't even make a joke round here anymore...”
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It would have been a happy, peaceful holiday had it not been for the stories of disappearances, odd accidents, even of deaths now appearing almost daily in the Prophet. Sometimes Bill and Mr. Weasley brought home news before it even reached the paper. To Mrs. Weasley's displeasure, Harry's sixteenth birthday celebrations were marred by grisly tidings brought to the party by Remus Lupin, who was looking gaunt and grim, his brown hair streaked liberally with gray, his clothes more ragged and patched than ever.
“There have been another couple of dementor attacks,” he announced, as Mrs. Weasley passed him a large slice of birthday cake. “And they've found Igor Karkaroff's body in a shack up north. The Dark Mark had been set over it... well, frankly, I'm surprised he stayed alive for even a year after deserting the Death Eaters; Sirius's brother, Regulus, only managed a few days as far as I can remember.”
“Yes, well,” said Mrs. Weasley, frowning, “perhaps we should talk about something diff...”
“Did you hear about Florean Fortescue, Remus?” asked Bill, who was being plied with wine by Fleur. “The man who ran—”
“— the ice-cream place in Diagon Alley?” Harry interrupted, with an unpleasant, hollow sensation in the pit of his stomach. “He used to give me free ice creams. What's happened to him?”
“Dragged off, by the look of his place.”
“Why?” asked Ron, while Mrs. Weasley pointedly glared at Bill.
“Who knows? He must've upset them somehow. He was a good man, Florean.”
“Talking of Diagon Alley,” said Mr. Weasley, “looks like Ollivander's gone too.”
“The wand-maker?” said Ginny, looking startled.
“That's the one. Shop's empty. No sign of a struggle. No one knows whether he left voluntarily or was kidnapped.”
“But wands—what'll people do for wands?”
“They'll make do with other makers,” said Lupin. “But Ollivander was the best, and if the other side have got him it's not so good for us.”
The day after this rather gloomy birthday tea, their letters and booklists arrived from Hogwarts. Harry's included a surprise: he had been made Quidditch Captain.
“That gives you equal status with prefects!” cried Hermione happily. “You can use our special bathroom now and everything!”
“Wow, I remember when Charlie wore one of these,” said Ron, examining the badge with glee. “Harry, this is so cool, you're my Captain... if you let me back on the team, I suppose, ha ha...”
“Well, I don't suppose we can put off a trip to Diagon Alley much longer now you've got these,” sighed Mrs. Weasley, looking down Ron's booklist. “We'll go on Saturday as long as your father doesn't have to go into work again. I'm not going there without him.”
“Mum, d'you honestly think You-Know-Who's going to be hiding behind a bookshelf in Flourish and Blotts?” sniggered Ron.
“Fortescue and Ollivander went on holiday, did they?” said Mrs. Weasley, firing up at once. “If you think security's a laughing matter you can stay behind and I'll get your things myself...”
“No, I wanna come, I want to see Fred and George's shop!” said Ron hastily.
“Then you just buck up your ideas, young man, before I decide you're too immature to come with us!” said Mrs. Weasley angrily, snatching up her clock, all nine hands of which were still pointing at mortal peril, and balancing it on top of a pile of just-laundered towels. “And that goes for returning to Hogwarts as well!”
Ron turned to stare incredulously at Harry as his mother hoisted the laundry basket and the teetering clock into her arms and stormed out of the room.
“Blimey... you can't even make a joke round here anymore...”
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Monday, November 22, 2010
"I got it, and I really can't make out
"I got it, and I really can't make out what YOU are worrying yourself about," said Alexey.
"I'm worrying myself because the remark has just been made to me that you weren't here, and that you were seen in Peterhof on Monday."
"There are matters which only concern those directly interested in them, and the matter you are so worried about is..."
"Yes, but if so, you may as well cut the service...."
"I beg you not to meddle, and that's all I have to say."
Alexey Vronsky's frowning face turned white, and his prominent lower jaw quivered, which happened rarely with him. Being a man of very warm heart, he was seldom angry; but when he was angry, and when his chin quivered, then, as Alexander Vronsky knew, he was dangerous. Alexander Vronsky smiled gaily.
"I only wanted to give you Mother's letter. Answer it and don't worry about anything just before the race. Bonne chance," he added, smiling and he moved away from him. But after him another friendly greeting brought Vronsky to a standstill.
"So you won't recognize your friends! How are you, mon cher?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, as conspicuously brilliant in the midst of all the Petersburg brilliance as he was in Moscow, his face rosy, and his whiskers sleek and glossy. "I came up yesterday, and I'm delighted that I shall see your triumph. When shall we meet?"
"Come tomorrow to the messroom," said Vronsky, and squeezing him by the sleeve of his coat, with apologies, he moved away to the center of the race course, where the horses were being led for the great steeplechase.
The horses who had run in the last race were being led home, steaming and exhausted, by the stable-boys, and one after another the fresh horses for the coming race made their appearance, for the most part English racers, wearing horsecloths, and looking with their drawn-up bellies like strange, huge birds. On the right was led in Frou-Frou, lean and beautiful, lifting up her elastic, rather long pasterns, as though moved by springs. Not far from her they were taking the rug off the lop-eared Gladiator. The strong, exquisite, perfectly correct lines of the stallion, with his superb hind-quarters and excessively short pasterns almost over his hoofs, attracted Vronsky's attention in spite of himself. He would have gone up to his mare, but he was again detained by an acquaintance.
"Oh, there's Karenin!" said the acquaintance with whom he was chatting. "He's looking for his wife, and she's in the middle of the pavilion. Didn't you see her?"
"No," answered Vronsky, and without even glancing round towards the pavilion where his friend was pointing out Madame Karenina, he went up to his mare.
Vronsky had not had time to look at the saddle, about which he had to give some direction, when the competitors were summoned to the pavilion to receive their numbers and places in the row at starting. Seventeen officers, looking serious and severe, many with pale faces, met together in the pavilion and drew the numbers. Vronsky drew the number seven. The cry was heard: "Mount!"
Feeling that with the others riding in the race, he was the center upon which all eyes were fastened, Vronsky walked up to his mare in that state of nervous tension in which he usually became deliberate and composed in his movements. Cord, in honor of the races, had put on his best clothes, a black coat buttoned up, a stiffly starched collar, which propped up his cheeks, a round black hat, and top boots. He was calm and dignified as ever, and was with his own hands holding Frou-Frou by both reins, standing straight in front of her. Frou-Frou was still trembling as though in a fever. Her eye, full of fire, glanced sideways at Vronsky. Vronsky slipped his finger under the saddle-girth. The mare glanced aslant at him, drew up her lip, and twitched her ear. The Englishman puckered up his lips, intending to indicate a smile that anyone should verify his saddling.
"Get up; you won't feel so excited."
The excitement of the approaching race
The excitement of the approaching race gained upon him as he drove further and further into the atmosphere of the races, overtaking carriages driving up from the summer villas or out of Petersburg.
At his quarters no one was left at home; all were at the races, and his valet was looking out for him at the gate. While he was changing his clothes, his valet told him that the second race had begun already, that a lot of gentlemen had been to ask for him, and a boy had twice run up from the stables. Dressing without hurry (he never hurried himself, and never lost his self-possession), Vronsky drove to the sheds. From the sheds he could see a perfect sea of carriages, and people on foot, soldiers surrounding the race course, and pavilions swarming with people. The second race was apparently going on, for just as he went into the sheds he heard a bell ringing. Going towards the stable, he met the white-legged chestnut, Mahotin's Gladiator, being led to the race-course in a blue forage horsecloth, with what looked like huge ears edged with blue.
"Where's Cord?" he asked the stable-boy.
"In the stable, putting on the saddle."
In the open horse-box stood Frou-Frou, saddled ready. They were just going to lead her out.
"I'm not too late?"
"All right! All right!" said the Englishman; "don't upset yourself!"
Vronsky once more took in in one glance the exquisite lines of his favorite mare; who was quivering all over, and with an effort he tore himself from the sight of her, and went out of the stable. He went towards the pavilions at the most favorable moment for escaping attention. The mile-and-a-half race was just finishing, and all eyes were fixed on the horse-guard in front and the light hussar behind, urging their horses on with a last effort close to the winning post. From the center and outside of the ring all were crowding to the winning post, and a group of soldiers and officers of the horse-guards were shouting loudly their delight at the expected triumph of their officer and comrade. Vronsky moved into the middle of the crowd unnoticed, almost at the very moment when the bell rang at the finish of the race, and the tall, mudspattered horse-guard who came in first, bending over the saddle, let go the reins of his panting gray horse that looked dark with sweat.
The horse, stiffening out its legs, with an effort stopped its rapid course, and the officer of the horse-guards looked round him like a man waking up from a heavy sleep, and just managed to smile. A crowd of friends and outsiders pressed round him.
Vronsky intentionally avoided that select crowd of the upper world, which was moving and talking with discreet freedom before the pavilions. He knew that Madame Karenina was there, and Betsy, and his brother's wife, and he purposely did not go near them for fear of something distracting his attention. But he was continually met and stopped by acquaintances, who told him about the previous races, and kept asking him why he was so late.
At the time when the racers had to go to the pavilion to receive the prizes, and all attention was directed to that point, Vronsky's elder brother, Alexander, a colonel with heavy fringed epaulets, came up to him. He was not tall, though as broadly built as Alexey, and handsomer and rosier than he; he had a red nose, and an open, drunken-looking face.
"Did you get my note?" he said. "There's never any finding you."
Alexander Vronsky, in spite of the dissolute life, and in especial the drunken habits, for which he was notorious, was quite one of the court circle.
Now, as he talked to his brother of a matter bound to be exceedingly disagreeable to him, knowing that the eyes of many people might be fixed upon him, he kept a smiling countenance, as though he were jesting with his brother about something of little moment.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
"No," Dolly was beginning,
"No," Dolly was beginning, but Anna cut her short, kissing her hand once more.
"I know more of the world than you do," she said. "I know how met like Stiva look at it. You speak of his talking of you with her. That never happened. Such men are unfaithful, but their home and wife are sacred to them. Somehow or other these women are still looked on with contempt by them, and do not touch on their feeling for their family. They draw a sort of line that can't be crossed between them and their families. I don't understand it, but it is so."
"Yes, but he has kissed her..."
"Dolly, hush, darling. I saw Stiva when he was in love with you. I remember the time when he came to me and cried, talking of you, and all the poetry and loftiness of his feeling for you, and I know that the longer he has lived with you the loftier you have been in his eyes. You know we have sometimes laughed at him for putting in at every word: 'Dolly's a marvelous woman.' You have always been a divinity for him, and you are that still, and this has not been an infidelity of the heart..."
"But if it is repeated?"
"It cannot be, as I understand it..."
"Yes, but could you forgive it?"
"I don't know, I can't judge.... Yes, I can," said Anna, thinking a moment; and grasping the position in her thought and weighing it in her inner balance, she added: "Yes, I can, I can, I can. Yes, I could forgive it. I could not be the same, no; but I could forgive it, and forgive it as though it had never been, never been at all..."
"Oh, of course," Dolly interposed quickly, as though saying what she had more than once thought, "else it would not be forgiveness. If one forgives, it must be completely, completely. Come, let us go; I'll take you to your room," she said, getting up, and on the way she embraced Anna. "My dear, how glad I am you came. It has made things better, ever so much better."
"I know more of the world than you do," she said. "I know how met like Stiva look at it. You speak of his talking of you with her. That never happened. Such men are unfaithful, but their home and wife are sacred to them. Somehow or other these women are still looked on with contempt by them, and do not touch on their feeling for their family. They draw a sort of line that can't be crossed between them and their families. I don't understand it, but it is so."
"Yes, but he has kissed her..."
"Dolly, hush, darling. I saw Stiva when he was in love with you. I remember the time when he came to me and cried, talking of you, and all the poetry and loftiness of his feeling for you, and I know that the longer he has lived with you the loftier you have been in his eyes. You know we have sometimes laughed at him for putting in at every word: 'Dolly's a marvelous woman.' You have always been a divinity for him, and you are that still, and this has not been an infidelity of the heart..."
"But if it is repeated?"
"It cannot be, as I understand it..."
"Yes, but could you forgive it?"
"I don't know, I can't judge.... Yes, I can," said Anna, thinking a moment; and grasping the position in her thought and weighing it in her inner balance, she added: "Yes, I can, I can, I can. Yes, I could forgive it. I could not be the same, no; but I could forgive it, and forgive it as though it had never been, never been at all..."
"Oh, of course," Dolly interposed quickly, as though saying what she had more than once thought, "else it would not be forgiveness. If one forgives, it must be completely, completely. Come, let us go; I'll take you to your room," she said, getting up, and on the way she embraced Anna. "My dear, how glad I am you came. It has made things better, ever so much better."
"She's young, you see, she's pretty
"She's young, you see, she's pretty," she went on. "Do you know, Anna, my youth and my beauty are gone, taken by whom? By him and his children. I have worked for him, and all I had has gone in his service, and now of course any fresh, vulgar creature has more charm for him. No doubt they talked of me together, or, worse still, they were silent. Do you understand?"
Again her eyes glowed with hatred.
"And after that he will tell me.... What! can I believe him? Never! No, everything is over, everything that once made my comfort, the reward of my work, and my sufferings.... Would you believe it, I was teaching Grisha just now: once this was a joy to me, now it is a torture. What have I to strive and toil for? Why are the children here? What's so awful is that all at once my heart's turned, and instead of love and tenderness, I have nothing but hatred for him; yes, hatred. I could kill him."
"Darling Dolly, I understand, but don't torture yourself. You are so distressed, so overwrought, that you look at many things mistakenly."
Dolly grew calmer, and for two minutes both were silent.
"What's to be done? Think for me, Anna, help me. I have thought over everything, and I see nothing."
Anna could think of nothing, but her heart responded instantly to each word, to each change of expression of her sister-in-law.
"One thing I would say," began Anna. "I am his sister, I know his character, that faculty of forgetting everything, everything" (she waved her hand before her forehead), "that faculty for being completely carried away, but for completely repenting too. He cannot believe it, he cannot comprehend now how he can have acted as he did."
"No; he understands, he understood!" Dolly broke in. "But I...you are forgetting me...does it make it easier for me?"
"Wait a minute. When he told me, I will own I did not realize all the awfulness of your position. I saw nothing but him, and that the family was broken up. I felt sorry for him, but after talking to you, I see it, as a woman, quite differently. I see your agony, and I can't tell you how sorry I am for you! But, Dolly, darling, I fully realize your sufferings, only there is one thing I don't know; I don't know...I don't know how much love there is still in your heart for him. That you know--whether there is enough for you to be able to forgive him. If there is, forgive him!"
"No," Dolly was beginning, but Anna cut her short, kissing her hand once more.
"I know more of the world than you do," she said. "I know how met like Stiva look at it. You speak of his talking of you with her. That never happened. Such men are unfaithful, but their home and wife are sacred to them. Somehow or other these women are still looked on with contempt by them, and do not touch on their feeling for their family. They draw a sort of line that can't be crossed between them and their families. I don't understand it, but it is so."
"Yes, but he has kissed her..."
"Dolly, hush, darling. I saw Stiva when he was in love with you. I remember the time when he came to me and cried, talking of you, and all the poetry and loftiness of his feeling for you, and I know that the longer he has lived with you the loftier you have been in his eyes. You know we have sometimes laughed at him for putting in at every word: 'Dolly's a marvelous woman.' You have always been a divinity for him, and you are that still, and this has not been an infidelity of the heart..."
"But if it is repeated?"
"It cannot be, as I understand it..."
"Yes, but could you forgive it?"
Again her eyes glowed with hatred.
"And after that he will tell me.... What! can I believe him? Never! No, everything is over, everything that once made my comfort, the reward of my work, and my sufferings.... Would you believe it, I was teaching Grisha just now: once this was a joy to me, now it is a torture. What have I to strive and toil for? Why are the children here? What's so awful is that all at once my heart's turned, and instead of love and tenderness, I have nothing but hatred for him; yes, hatred. I could kill him."
"Darling Dolly, I understand, but don't torture yourself. You are so distressed, so overwrought, that you look at many things mistakenly."
Dolly grew calmer, and for two minutes both were silent.
"What's to be done? Think for me, Anna, help me. I have thought over everything, and I see nothing."
Anna could think of nothing, but her heart responded instantly to each word, to each change of expression of her sister-in-law.
"One thing I would say," began Anna. "I am his sister, I know his character, that faculty of forgetting everything, everything" (she waved her hand before her forehead), "that faculty for being completely carried away, but for completely repenting too. He cannot believe it, he cannot comprehend now how he can have acted as he did."
"No; he understands, he understood!" Dolly broke in. "But I...you are forgetting me...does it make it easier for me?"
"Wait a minute. When he told me, I will own I did not realize all the awfulness of your position. I saw nothing but him, and that the family was broken up. I felt sorry for him, but after talking to you, I see it, as a woman, quite differently. I see your agony, and I can't tell you how sorry I am for you! But, Dolly, darling, I fully realize your sufferings, only there is one thing I don't know; I don't know...I don't know how much love there is still in your heart for him. That you know--whether there is enough for you to be able to forgive him. If there is, forgive him!"
"No," Dolly was beginning, but Anna cut her short, kissing her hand once more.
"I know more of the world than you do," she said. "I know how met like Stiva look at it. You speak of his talking of you with her. That never happened. Such men are unfaithful, but their home and wife are sacred to them. Somehow or other these women are still looked on with contempt by them, and do not touch on their feeling for their family. They draw a sort of line that can't be crossed between them and their families. I don't understand it, but it is so."
"Yes, but he has kissed her..."
"Dolly, hush, darling. I saw Stiva when he was in love with you. I remember the time when he came to me and cried, talking of you, and all the poetry and loftiness of his feeling for you, and I know that the longer he has lived with you the loftier you have been in his eyes. You know we have sometimes laughed at him for putting in at every word: 'Dolly's a marvelous woman.' You have always been a divinity for him, and you are that still, and this has not been an infidelity of the heart..."
"But if it is repeated?"
"It cannot be, as I understand it..."
"Yes, but could you forgive it?"
And directly she had said this
And directly she had said this, her face suddenly softened. Anna lifted the wasted, thin hand of Dolly, kissed it and said:
"But, Dolly, what's to be done, what's to be done? How is it best to act in this awful position--that's what you must think of."
"All's over, and there's nothing more," said Dolly. "And the worst of all is, you see, that I can't cast him off: there are the children, I am tied. And I can't live with him! it's a torture to me to see him."
"Dolly, darling, he has spoken to me, but I want to hear it from you: tell me about it."
Dolly looked at her inquiringly.
Sympathy and love unfeigned were visible on Anna's face.
"Very well," she said all at once. "But I will tell you it from the beginning. You know how I was married. With the education mamma gave us I was more than innocent, I was stupid. I knew nothing. I know they say men tell their wives of their former lives, but Stiva"--she corrected herself--"Stepan Arkadyevitch told me nothing. You'll hardly believe it, but till now I imagined that I was the only woman he had known. So I lived eight years. You must understand that I was so far from suspecting infidelity, I regarded it as impossible, and then-- try to imagine it--with such ideas, to find out suddenly all the horror, all the loathsomeness.... You must try and understand me. To be fully convinced of one's happiness, and all at once..." continued Dolly, holding back her sobs, "to get a letter...his letter to his mistress, my governess. No, it's too awful!" She hastily pulled out her handkerchief and hid her face in it. "I can understand being carried away by feeling," she went on after a brief silence, "but deliberately, slyly deceiving me...and with whom?... To go on being my husband together with her...it's awful! You can't understand..."
"Oh, yes, I understand! I understand! Dolly, dearest, I do understand," said Anna, pressing her hand.
"And do you imagine he realizes all the awfulness of my position?" Dolly resumed. "Not the slightest! He's happy and contented."
"Oh, no!" Anna interposed quickly. "He's to be pitied, he's weighed down by remorse..."
"Is he capable of remorse?" Dolly interrupted, gazing intently into her sister-in-law's face.
"Yes. I know him. I could not look at him without feeling sorry for him. We both know him. He's good-hearted, but he's proud, and now he's so humiliated. What touched me most..." (and here Anna guessed what would touch Dolly most) "he's tortured by two things: that he's ashamed for the children's sake, and that, loving you--yes, yes, loving you beyond everything on earth," she hurriedly interrupted Dolly, who would have answered-- "he has hurt you, pierced you to the heart. 'No, no, she cannot forgive me,' he keeps saying."
Dolly looked dreamily away beyond her sister-in-law as she listened to her words.
"Yes, I can see that his position is awful; it's worse for the guilty than the innocent," she said, "if he feels that all the misery comes from his fault. But how am I to forgive him, how am I to be his wife again after her? For me to live with him now would be torture, just because I love my past love for him..."
And sobs cut short her words. But as though of set design, each time she was softened she began to speak again of what exasperated her.
"But, Dolly, what's to be done, what's to be done? How is it best to act in this awful position--that's what you must think of."
"All's over, and there's nothing more," said Dolly. "And the worst of all is, you see, that I can't cast him off: there are the children, I am tied. And I can't live with him! it's a torture to me to see him."
"Dolly, darling, he has spoken to me, but I want to hear it from you: tell me about it."
Dolly looked at her inquiringly.
Sympathy and love unfeigned were visible on Anna's face.
"Very well," she said all at once. "But I will tell you it from the beginning. You know how I was married. With the education mamma gave us I was more than innocent, I was stupid. I knew nothing. I know they say men tell their wives of their former lives, but Stiva"--she corrected herself--"Stepan Arkadyevitch told me nothing. You'll hardly believe it, but till now I imagined that I was the only woman he had known. So I lived eight years. You must understand that I was so far from suspecting infidelity, I regarded it as impossible, and then-- try to imagine it--with such ideas, to find out suddenly all the horror, all the loathsomeness.... You must try and understand me. To be fully convinced of one's happiness, and all at once..." continued Dolly, holding back her sobs, "to get a letter...his letter to his mistress, my governess. No, it's too awful!" She hastily pulled out her handkerchief and hid her face in it. "I can understand being carried away by feeling," she went on after a brief silence, "but deliberately, slyly deceiving me...and with whom?... To go on being my husband together with her...it's awful! You can't understand..."
"Oh, yes, I understand! I understand! Dolly, dearest, I do understand," said Anna, pressing her hand.
"And do you imagine he realizes all the awfulness of my position?" Dolly resumed. "Not the slightest! He's happy and contented."
"Oh, no!" Anna interposed quickly. "He's to be pitied, he's weighed down by remorse..."
"Is he capable of remorse?" Dolly interrupted, gazing intently into her sister-in-law's face.
"Yes. I know him. I could not look at him without feeling sorry for him. We both know him. He's good-hearted, but he's proud, and now he's so humiliated. What touched me most..." (and here Anna guessed what would touch Dolly most) "he's tortured by two things: that he's ashamed for the children's sake, and that, loving you--yes, yes, loving you beyond everything on earth," she hurriedly interrupted Dolly, who would have answered-- "he has hurt you, pierced you to the heart. 'No, no, she cannot forgive me,' he keeps saying."
Dolly looked dreamily away beyond her sister-in-law as she listened to her words.
"Yes, I can see that his position is awful; it's worse for the guilty than the innocent," she said, "if he feels that all the misery comes from his fault. But how am I to forgive him, how am I to be his wife again after her? For me to live with him now would be torture, just because I love my past love for him..."
And sobs cut short her words. But as though of set design, each time she was softened she began to speak again of what exasperated her.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
He shook Harry by the neck of his robes.
He shook Harry by the neck of his robes.
‘Please,’ said Hermione breathlessly, ‘please, don't attack us, We don't think like her, we aren't Ministry of Magic employees! We only came in here because we hoped you'd drive her off for us.’
Harry knew at once, from the look on the face of the grey centaur holding Hermione, that she had made a terrible mistake in saying this. The grey centaur threw back his head, his back legs stamping furiously, and bellowed, ‘You see, Ronan? They already have the arrogance of their kind! So we were to do your dirty work, were we, human girl? We were to act as your servants, drive away your enemies like obedient hounds?’
‘No!’ said Hermione in a horrorstruck squeak. ‘Please—I didn't mean that! I just hoped you'd be able to—to help us—’
But she seemed to be going from bad to worse.
‘We do not help humans!’ snarled the centaur holding Harry, tightening his grip and rearing a little at the same time, so that Harry's feet left the ground momentarily. ‘We are a race apart and proud to be so. We will not permit you to walk from here, boasting that we did your bidding!’
‘We're not going to say anything like that!’ Harry shouted. ‘We know you didn't do what you did because we wanted you to—’
But nobody seemed to be listening to him.
A bearded centaur towards the back of the crowd shouted, ‘They came here unasked, they must pay the consequences!’
A roar of approval met these words and a dun-coloured centaur shouted, ‘They can join the woman!’
‘You said you didn't hurt the innocent!’ shouted Hermione, real tears sliding down her face now. ‘We haven't done anything to hurt you, we haven't used wands or threats, we just want to go back to school, please let us go back—’
‘We are not all like the traitor Firenze, human girl!’ shouted the grey centaur, to more neighing roars of approval from his fellows. ‘Perhaps you thought us pretty talking horses? We are an ancient people who will not stand wizard invasions and insults! We do not recognise your laws, we do not acknowledge your superiority, we are—’
But they did not hear what else centaurs were, for at that moment there came a crashing noise on the edge of the clearing so loud that all of them, Harry, Hermione and the fifty or so centaurs filling the clearing, looked around. Harry's centaur let him fall to the ground again as his hands flew to his bow and quiver of arrows. Hermione had been dropped, too, and Harry hurried towards her as two thick tree trunks parted ominously and the monstrous form of Grawp the giant appeared in the gap.
The centaurs nearest him backed into those behind; the clearing was now a forest of bows and arrows waiting to be fired, all pointing upwards at the enormous greyish face now looming over them from just beneath the thick canopy of branches. Grawp's lopsided mouth was gaping stupidly; they could see his bricklike yellow teeth glimmering in the half-light, his dull sludge-coloured eyes narrowed as he squinted down at the creatures at his feet. Broken ropes trailed from both ankles.
He opened his mouth even wider.
‘Hagger.’
Harry did not know what ‘hagger’ meant, or what language it was from, nor did he much care; he was watching Grawp's feet, which were almost as long as Harry's whole body. Hermione gripped his arm tightly; the centaurs were quite silent, staring up at the giant, whose huge, round head moved from side to side as he continued to peer amongst them as though looking for something he had dropped.
‘Hagger!’ he said again, more insistently.
‘Get away from here, giant!’ called Magorian. ‘You are not welcome among us!’
These words seemed to make no impression whatsoever on Grawp. He stooped a little (the centaurs’ arms tensed on their bows), then bellowed, ‘HAGGER!’
A few of the centaurs looked worried now. Hermione, however, gave a gasp.
‘Harry!’ she whispered. ‘I think he's trying to say “Hagrid"!’
At this precise moment Grawp caught sight of them, the only two humans in a sea of centaurs. He lowered his head another foot or so, staring intently at them. Harry could feel Hermione shaking as Grawp opened his mouth wide again and said, in a deep, rumbling voice, ‘Hermy.’
‘Goodness,’ said Hermione, gripping Harry's arm so tightly it was growing numb and looking as though she was about to faint, ‘he—he remembered!’
‘HERMY!’ roared Grawp. ‘WHERE HAGGER?’
‘Please,’ said Hermione breathlessly, ‘please, don't attack us, We don't think like her, we aren't Ministry of Magic employees! We only came in here because we hoped you'd drive her off for us.’
Harry knew at once, from the look on the face of the grey centaur holding Hermione, that she had made a terrible mistake in saying this. The grey centaur threw back his head, his back legs stamping furiously, and bellowed, ‘You see, Ronan? They already have the arrogance of their kind! So we were to do your dirty work, were we, human girl? We were to act as your servants, drive away your enemies like obedient hounds?’
‘No!’ said Hermione in a horrorstruck squeak. ‘Please—I didn't mean that! I just hoped you'd be able to—to help us—’
But she seemed to be going from bad to worse.
‘We do not help humans!’ snarled the centaur holding Harry, tightening his grip and rearing a little at the same time, so that Harry's feet left the ground momentarily. ‘We are a race apart and proud to be so. We will not permit you to walk from here, boasting that we did your bidding!’
‘We're not going to say anything like that!’ Harry shouted. ‘We know you didn't do what you did because we wanted you to—’
But nobody seemed to be listening to him.
A bearded centaur towards the back of the crowd shouted, ‘They came here unasked, they must pay the consequences!’
A roar of approval met these words and a dun-coloured centaur shouted, ‘They can join the woman!’
‘You said you didn't hurt the innocent!’ shouted Hermione, real tears sliding down her face now. ‘We haven't done anything to hurt you, we haven't used wands or threats, we just want to go back to school, please let us go back—’
‘We are not all like the traitor Firenze, human girl!’ shouted the grey centaur, to more neighing roars of approval from his fellows. ‘Perhaps you thought us pretty talking horses? We are an ancient people who will not stand wizard invasions and insults! We do not recognise your laws, we do not acknowledge your superiority, we are—’
But they did not hear what else centaurs were, for at that moment there came a crashing noise on the edge of the clearing so loud that all of them, Harry, Hermione and the fifty or so centaurs filling the clearing, looked around. Harry's centaur let him fall to the ground again as his hands flew to his bow and quiver of arrows. Hermione had been dropped, too, and Harry hurried towards her as two thick tree trunks parted ominously and the monstrous form of Grawp the giant appeared in the gap.
The centaurs nearest him backed into those behind; the clearing was now a forest of bows and arrows waiting to be fired, all pointing upwards at the enormous greyish face now looming over them from just beneath the thick canopy of branches. Grawp's lopsided mouth was gaping stupidly; they could see his bricklike yellow teeth glimmering in the half-light, his dull sludge-coloured eyes narrowed as he squinted down at the creatures at his feet. Broken ropes trailed from both ankles.
He opened his mouth even wider.
‘Hagger.’
Harry did not know what ‘hagger’ meant, or what language it was from, nor did he much care; he was watching Grawp's feet, which were almost as long as Harry's whole body. Hermione gripped his arm tightly; the centaurs were quite silent, staring up at the giant, whose huge, round head moved from side to side as he continued to peer amongst them as though looking for something he had dropped.
‘Hagger!’ he said again, more insistently.
‘Get away from here, giant!’ called Magorian. ‘You are not welcome among us!’
These words seemed to make no impression whatsoever on Grawp. He stooped a little (the centaurs’ arms tensed on their bows), then bellowed, ‘HAGGER!’
A few of the centaurs looked worried now. Hermione, however, gave a gasp.
‘Harry!’ she whispered. ‘I think he's trying to say “Hagrid"!’
At this precise moment Grawp caught sight of them, the only two humans in a sea of centaurs. He lowered his head another foot or so, staring intently at them. Harry could feel Hermione shaking as Grawp opened his mouth wide again and said, in a deep, rumbling voice, ‘Hermy.’
‘Goodness,’ said Hermione, gripping Harry's arm so tightly it was growing numb and looking as though she was about to faint, ‘he—he remembered!’
‘HERMY!’ roared Grawp. ‘WHERE HAGGER?’
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Angelina won't just let me resign.’
Angelina won't just let me resign.’
It's because you're good when you're on form, that's why,’ said Harry irritably.
He found it very hard to be sympathetic to Ron's plight, when he himself would have given almost anything to be playing in the forthcoming match against Hufflepuff. Ron seemed to have noticed Harry's tone, because he did
not mention Quidditch again during breakfast, and there was a slight frostiness in the way they said goodbye to each other shortly afterwards. Ron departed for the Quidditch pitch and Harry, after attempting to flatten his hair
while staring at his reflection in the back of a teaspoon, proceeded alone to the Entrance Hall to meet Cho, feeling very apprehensive and wondering what on earth they were going to talk about.
She was waiting for him a little to the side of the oak front doors, looking very pretty with her hair tied back in a long pony-tail. Harry's feet seemed to be too big for his body as he walked towards her and he was suddenly
horribly aware of his arms and how stupid they must look swinging at his sides.
‘Hi,’ said Cho slightly breathlessly.
‘Hi,’ said Harry.
They stared at each other for a moment, then Harry said, ‘Well—er—shall we go, then?’
‘Oh—yes ...’
They joined the queue of people being signed out by Filch, occasionally catching each other's eye and grinning shiftily, but not talking to each other. Harry was relieved when they reached the fresh air, finding it easier to walk
along in silence than just stand about looking awkward. It was a fresh, breezy sort of a day and as they passed the Quidditch stadium Harry glimpsed Ron and Ginny skimming along over the stands and felt a horrible pang
that he was not up there with them.
‘You really miss it, don't you?’ said Cho.
He looked round and saw her watching him.
‘Yeah,’ sighed Harry. ‘I do.’
‘Remember the first time we played against each other, in the third year?’ she asked him.
‘Yeah,’ said Harry, grinning. ‘You kept blocking me.’
‘And Wood told you not to be a gentleman and knock me off my broom if you had to,’ said Cho, smiling reminiscently. ‘I heard he got taken on by Pride of Portree, is that right?’
‘Nah, it was Puddlemere United; I saw him at the World Cup last year.’
‘Oh, I saw you there, too, remember? We were on the same campsite. It was really good, wasn't it?’
The subject of the Quidditch World Cup carried them all the way down the drive and out through the gates. Harry could hardly believe how easy it was to talk to her—no more difficult, in fact, than talking to Ron and Hermione
—and he was just starting to feel confident and cheerful when a large gang of Slytherin girls passed them, including Pansy Parkinson.
‘Potter and Chang!’ screeched Pansy, to a chorus of snide giggles. ‘Urgh, Chang, I don't think much of your taste ... at least Diggory was good-looking!’
The girls sped up, talking and shrieking in a pointed fashion with many exaggerated glances back at Harry and Cho, leaving an embarrassed silence in their wake. Harry could think of nothing else to say about Quidditch, and
Cho, slightly flushed, was watching her feet.
‘So ... where d'you want to go?’ Harry asked as they entered Hogsmeade. The High Street was full of students ambling up and down, peering into the shop windows and messing about together on the pavements.
‘Oh ... I don't mind,’ said Cho, shrugging. ‘Um ... shall we just have a look in the shops or something?’
They wandered towards Dervish and Banges. A large poster had been stuck up in the window and a few Hogsmeaders were looking at it. They moved aside when Harry and Cho approached and Harry found himself staring
once more at the pictures of the ten escaped Death Eaters. The poster, ‘By Order of the Ministry of Magic', offered a thousand-Galleon reward to any witch or wizard with information leading to the recapture of any of the
convicts pictured.
‘It's funny, isn't it,’ said Cho in a low voice, gazing up at the pictures of the Death Eaters, ‘remember when that Sirius Black escaped, and there were dementors all over Hogsmeade looking for him? And now ten Death Eaters
are on the loose and there are no dementors anywhere ...’
‘Yeah,’ said Harry, tearing his eyes away from Bellatrix Lestrange's face to glance up and down the High Street. ‘Yeah, that is weird.’
He wasn't sorry that there were no dementors nearby, but now he came to think of it, their absence was highly significant. They had not only let the Death Eaters escape, they weren't bothering to look for them ... it looked as
though they really were outside Ministry control now.
The ten escaped Death Eaters were staring out of every shop window he and Cho passed. It started to rain as they passed Scrivenshaft's; cold, heavy drops of water kept hitting Harry's face and the back of his neck.
‘Um ... d'you want to get a coffee?’ said Cho tentatively, as the rain began to fall more heavily.
‘Yeah, all right,’ said Harry, looking around. ‘Where?’
‘Oh, there's a really nice place just up here; haven't you ever been to Madam Puddifoot's?’ she said brightly, leading him up a side road and into a small teashop that Harry had never noticed before. It was a cramped, steamy
little place where everything seemed to have been decorated with frills or bows. Harry was reminded unpleasantly of Umbridge's office.
‘Cute, isn't it?’ said Cho happily.
‘Er ... yeah,’ said Harry untruthfully.
‘Look, she's decorated it for Valentine's Day!’ said Cho, indicating a number of golden cherubs that were hovering over each of the small, circular tables, occasionally throwing pink confetti over the occupants.
‘Aaah ...’
They sat down at the last remaining table, which was over by the steamy window. Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, was sitting about a foot and a half away with a pretty blonde girl. They were holding hands.
The sight made Harry feel uncomfortable, particularly when, looking around the teashop, he saw that it was full of nothing but couples, all of them holding hands. Perhaps Cho would expect him to hold her hand.
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It's because you're good when you're on form, that's why,’ said Harry irritably.
He found it very hard to be sympathetic to Ron's plight, when he himself would have given almost anything to be playing in the forthcoming match against Hufflepuff. Ron seemed to have noticed Harry's tone, because he did
not mention Quidditch again during breakfast, and there was a slight frostiness in the way they said goodbye to each other shortly afterwards. Ron departed for the Quidditch pitch and Harry, after attempting to flatten his hair
while staring at his reflection in the back of a teaspoon, proceeded alone to the Entrance Hall to meet Cho, feeling very apprehensive and wondering what on earth they were going to talk about.
She was waiting for him a little to the side of the oak front doors, looking very pretty with her hair tied back in a long pony-tail. Harry's feet seemed to be too big for his body as he walked towards her and he was suddenly
horribly aware of his arms and how stupid they must look swinging at his sides.
‘Hi,’ said Cho slightly breathlessly.
‘Hi,’ said Harry.
They stared at each other for a moment, then Harry said, ‘Well—er—shall we go, then?’
‘Oh—yes ...’
They joined the queue of people being signed out by Filch, occasionally catching each other's eye and grinning shiftily, but not talking to each other. Harry was relieved when they reached the fresh air, finding it easier to walk
along in silence than just stand about looking awkward. It was a fresh, breezy sort of a day and as they passed the Quidditch stadium Harry glimpsed Ron and Ginny skimming along over the stands and felt a horrible pang
that he was not up there with them.
‘You really miss it, don't you?’ said Cho.
He looked round and saw her watching him.
‘Yeah,’ sighed Harry. ‘I do.’
‘Remember the first time we played against each other, in the third year?’ she asked him.
‘Yeah,’ said Harry, grinning. ‘You kept blocking me.’
‘And Wood told you not to be a gentleman and knock me off my broom if you had to,’ said Cho, smiling reminiscently. ‘I heard he got taken on by Pride of Portree, is that right?’
‘Nah, it was Puddlemere United; I saw him at the World Cup last year.’
‘Oh, I saw you there, too, remember? We were on the same campsite. It was really good, wasn't it?’
The subject of the Quidditch World Cup carried them all the way down the drive and out through the gates. Harry could hardly believe how easy it was to talk to her—no more difficult, in fact, than talking to Ron and Hermione
—and he was just starting to feel confident and cheerful when a large gang of Slytherin girls passed them, including Pansy Parkinson.
‘Potter and Chang!’ screeched Pansy, to a chorus of snide giggles. ‘Urgh, Chang, I don't think much of your taste ... at least Diggory was good-looking!’
The girls sped up, talking and shrieking in a pointed fashion with many exaggerated glances back at Harry and Cho, leaving an embarrassed silence in their wake. Harry could think of nothing else to say about Quidditch, and
Cho, slightly flushed, was watching her feet.
‘So ... where d'you want to go?’ Harry asked as they entered Hogsmeade. The High Street was full of students ambling up and down, peering into the shop windows and messing about together on the pavements.
‘Oh ... I don't mind,’ said Cho, shrugging. ‘Um ... shall we just have a look in the shops or something?’
They wandered towards Dervish and Banges. A large poster had been stuck up in the window and a few Hogsmeaders were looking at it. They moved aside when Harry and Cho approached and Harry found himself staring
once more at the pictures of the ten escaped Death Eaters. The poster, ‘By Order of the Ministry of Magic', offered a thousand-Galleon reward to any witch or wizard with information leading to the recapture of any of the
convicts pictured.
‘It's funny, isn't it,’ said Cho in a low voice, gazing up at the pictures of the Death Eaters, ‘remember when that Sirius Black escaped, and there were dementors all over Hogsmeade looking for him? And now ten Death Eaters
are on the loose and there are no dementors anywhere ...’
‘Yeah,’ said Harry, tearing his eyes away from Bellatrix Lestrange's face to glance up and down the High Street. ‘Yeah, that is weird.’
He wasn't sorry that there were no dementors nearby, but now he came to think of it, their absence was highly significant. They had not only let the Death Eaters escape, they weren't bothering to look for them ... it looked as
though they really were outside Ministry control now.
The ten escaped Death Eaters were staring out of every shop window he and Cho passed. It started to rain as they passed Scrivenshaft's; cold, heavy drops of water kept hitting Harry's face and the back of his neck.
‘Um ... d'you want to get a coffee?’ said Cho tentatively, as the rain began to fall more heavily.
‘Yeah, all right,’ said Harry, looking around. ‘Where?’
‘Oh, there's a really nice place just up here; haven't you ever been to Madam Puddifoot's?’ she said brightly, leading him up a side road and into a small teashop that Harry had never noticed before. It was a cramped, steamy
little place where everything seemed to have been decorated with frills or bows. Harry was reminded unpleasantly of Umbridge's office.
‘Cute, isn't it?’ said Cho happily.
‘Er ... yeah,’ said Harry untruthfully.
‘Look, she's decorated it for Valentine's Day!’ said Cho, indicating a number of golden cherubs that were hovering over each of the small, circular tables, occasionally throwing pink confetti over the occupants.
‘Aaah ...’
They sat down at the last remaining table, which was over by the steamy window. Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, was sitting about a foot and a half away with a pretty blonde girl. They were holding hands.
The sight made Harry feel uncomfortable, particularly when, looking around the teashop, he saw that it was full of nothing but couples, all of them holding hands. Perhaps Cho would expect him to hold her hand.
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Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Chapter 18 Dumbledore's Army
Chapter 18 Dumbledore's Army
‘Umbridge has been reading your mail, Harry. There's no other explanation.’
‘You think Umbridge attacked Hedwig?’ he said, outraged.
‘I'm almost certain of it,’ said Hermione grimly. ‘Watch your frog, it's escaping.’
Harry pointed his wand at the bullfrog that had been hopping hopefully towards the other side of the table—‘Accio!'— and it zoomed gloomily back into his hand.
Charms was always one of the best lessons in which to enjoy a private chat; there was generally so much movement and activity that the danger of being overheard was very slight. Today, with the room full of croaking bullfrogs and cawing ravens, and with a heavy downpour of rain clattering and pounding against the classroom windows, Harry, Ron and Hermione's whispered discussion about how Umbridge had nearly caught Sirius went quite unnoticed.
‘I've been suspecting this ever since Filch accused you of ordering Dungbombs, because it seemed such a stupid lie,’ Hermione whispered. ‘I mean, once your letter had been read it would have been quite clear you weren't ordering them, so you wouldn't have been in trouble at all—it's a bit of a feeble joke, isn't it? But then I thought, what if somebody just wanted an excuse to read your mail? Well then, it would be a perfect way for Umbridge to manage it —tip off Filch, let him do the dirty work and confiscate the letter, then either find a way of stealing it from him or else demand to see it—I don't think Filch would object, when's he ever stuck up for a student's rights? Harry, you're squashing your frog.’
Harry looked down; he was indeed squeezing his bullfrog so tightly its eyes were popping; he replaced it hastily upon the desk.
‘It was a very, very close call last night,’ said Hermione. ‘I just wonder if Umbridge knows how close it was. Silencio.’
The bullfrog on which she was practising her Silencing Charm was struck dumb mid-croak and glared at her reproachfully.
‘If she'd caught Snuffles—’
Harry finished the sentence for her.
‘—He'd probably be back in Azkaban this morning.’ He waved his wand without really concentrating; his bullfrog swelled like a green balloon and emitted a high-pitched whistle.
‘Silencio!’ said Hermione hastily, pointing her wand at Harry's frog, which deflated silently before them. ‘Well, he mustn't do it again, that's all. I just don't know how we're going to let him know. We can't send him an owl.’
‘I don't reckon he'll risk it again,’ said Ron. ‘He's not stupid, he knows she nearly got him. Silencio.’
The large and ugly raven in front of him let out a derisive caw.
‘Silencio. SILENCIO!’
The raven cawed more loudly.
‘It's the way you're moving your wand,’ said Hermione, watching Ron critically, ‘you don't want to wave it, it's more a sharp jab.’
‘Ravens are harder than frogs,’ said Ron through clenched teeth.
‘Fi ne, let's swap,’ said Hermione, seizing Ron's raven and replacing it with her own fat bullfrog. ‘Silencio!’ The raven continued to open and close its sharp beak, but no sound came out.
‘Very good, Miss Granger!’ said Professor Flitwick's squeaky little voice, making Harry, Ron and Hermione all jump. ‘Now, let me see you try, Mr. Weasley’
‘Wha—? Oh—oh, right,’ said Ron, very flustered. ‘Er—silencio!’
He jabbed at the bullfrog so hard he poked it in the eye: the frog gave a deafening croak and leapt off the desk.
It came as no surprise to any of them that Harry and Ron were given additional practice of the Silencing Charm for homework.
They were allowed to remain inside over break due to the downpour outside. They found seats in a noisy and overcrowded classroom on the first floor in which Peeves was floating dreamily up near the chandelier, occasionally blowing an ink pellet at the top of somebody's head. They had barely sat down when Angelina came struggling towards them through the groups of gossiping students.
‘Umbridge has been reading your mail, Harry. There's no other explanation.’
‘You think Umbridge attacked Hedwig?’ he said, outraged.
‘I'm almost certain of it,’ said Hermione grimly. ‘Watch your frog, it's escaping.’
Harry pointed his wand at the bullfrog that had been hopping hopefully towards the other side of the table—‘Accio!'— and it zoomed gloomily back into his hand.
Charms was always one of the best lessons in which to enjoy a private chat; there was generally so much movement and activity that the danger of being overheard was very slight. Today, with the room full of croaking bullfrogs and cawing ravens, and with a heavy downpour of rain clattering and pounding against the classroom windows, Harry, Ron and Hermione's whispered discussion about how Umbridge had nearly caught Sirius went quite unnoticed.
‘I've been suspecting this ever since Filch accused you of ordering Dungbombs, because it seemed such a stupid lie,’ Hermione whispered. ‘I mean, once your letter had been read it would have been quite clear you weren't ordering them, so you wouldn't have been in trouble at all—it's a bit of a feeble joke, isn't it? But then I thought, what if somebody just wanted an excuse to read your mail? Well then, it would be a perfect way for Umbridge to manage it —tip off Filch, let him do the dirty work and confiscate the letter, then either find a way of stealing it from him or else demand to see it—I don't think Filch would object, when's he ever stuck up for a student's rights? Harry, you're squashing your frog.’
Harry looked down; he was indeed squeezing his bullfrog so tightly its eyes were popping; he replaced it hastily upon the desk.
‘It was a very, very close call last night,’ said Hermione. ‘I just wonder if Umbridge knows how close it was. Silencio.’
The bullfrog on which she was practising her Silencing Charm was struck dumb mid-croak and glared at her reproachfully.
‘If she'd caught Snuffles—’
Harry finished the sentence for her.
‘—He'd probably be back in Azkaban this morning.’ He waved his wand without really concentrating; his bullfrog swelled like a green balloon and emitted a high-pitched whistle.
‘Silencio!’ said Hermione hastily, pointing her wand at Harry's frog, which deflated silently before them. ‘Well, he mustn't do it again, that's all. I just don't know how we're going to let him know. We can't send him an owl.’
‘I don't reckon he'll risk it again,’ said Ron. ‘He's not stupid, he knows she nearly got him. Silencio.’
The large and ugly raven in front of him let out a derisive caw.
‘Silencio. SILENCIO!’
The raven cawed more loudly.
‘It's the way you're moving your wand,’ said Hermione, watching Ron critically, ‘you don't want to wave it, it's more a sharp jab.’
‘Ravens are harder than frogs,’ said Ron through clenched teeth.
‘Fi ne, let's swap,’ said Hermione, seizing Ron's raven and replacing it with her own fat bullfrog. ‘Silencio!’ The raven continued to open and close its sharp beak, but no sound came out.
‘Very good, Miss Granger!’ said Professor Flitwick's squeaky little voice, making Harry, Ron and Hermione all jump. ‘Now, let me see you try, Mr. Weasley’
‘Wha—? Oh—oh, right,’ said Ron, very flustered. ‘Er—silencio!’
He jabbed at the bullfrog so hard he poked it in the eye: the frog gave a deafening croak and leapt off the desk.
It came as no surprise to any of them that Harry and Ron were given additional practice of the Silencing Charm for homework.
They were allowed to remain inside over break due to the downpour outside. They found seats in a noisy and overcrowded classroom on the first floor in which Peeves was floating dreamily up near the chandelier, occasionally blowing an ink pellet at the top of somebody's head. They had barely sat down when Angelina came struggling towards them through the groups of gossiping students.
Monday, November 15, 2010
‘I'll tell you what it means,’
‘I'll tell you what it means,’ said Hermione through gritted teeth. ‘It means the Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts.’
There was a great clattering and banging all around them; Dumbledore had obviously just dismissed the school, because everyone was standing up ready to leave the Hall. Hermione jumped up, looking flustered.
‘Ron, we're supposed to show the first-years where to go!’
‘Oh yeah,’ said Ron, who had obviously forgotten. ‘Hey—hey, you lot! Midgets!’
‘Ron!’
‘Well, they are, they're titchy ...’
‘I know, but you can't call them midgets!—First-years!’ Hermione called commandingly along the table. ‘This way, please!’
A group of new students walked shyly up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, all of them trying hard not to lead the group. They did indeed seem very small; Harry was sure he had not appeared that young when he had arrived here. He grinned at them. A blond boy next to Euan Abercrombie looked petrified; he nudged Euan and whispered something in his ear. Euan Abercrombie looked equally frightened and stole a horrified look at Harry, who felt the grin slide off his face like Stinksap.
‘See you later,’ he said dully to Ron and Hermione and he made his way out of the Great Hall alone, doing everything he could to ignore more whispering, staring and pointing as he passed. He kept his eyes fixed ahead as he wove his way through the crowd in the Entrance Hall, then he hurried up the marble staircase, took a couple of concealed short cuts and had soon left most of the crowds behind.
He had been stupid not to expect this, he thought angrily as he walked through the much emptier upstairs corridors. Of course everyone was staring at him; he had emerged from the Triwizard maze two months previously clutching the dead body of a fellow student and claiming to have seen Lord Voldemort return to power. There had not been time last term to explain himself before they'd all had to go home—even if he had felt up to giving the whole school a detailed account of the terrible events in that graveyard.
Harry had reached the end of the corridor to the Gryffindor common room and come to a halt in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady before he realised that he did not know the new password.
‘Er ...’ he said glumly, staring up at the Fat Lady, who smoothed the folds of her pink satin dress and looked sternly back at him.
‘No password, no entrance,’ she said loftily.
‘Harry, I know it!’ Someone panted up behind him and he turned to see Neville jogging towards him. ‘Guess what it is? I'm actually going to be able to remember it for once— ’ He waved the stunted little cactus he had shown them on the train. ‘Mimbuius mimbletonia!’
‘Correct,’ said the Fat Lady, and her portrait swung open towards them like a door, revealing a circular hole in the wall behind, through which Harry and Neville now climbed.
The Gryffindor common room looked as welcoming as ever, a cosy circular tower room full of dilapidated squashy armchairs and rickety old tables. A fire was crackling merrily in the grate and a few people were warming their hands by it before going up to their dormitories; on the other side of the room Fred and George Weasley were pinning something up on the noticeboard. Harry waved goodnight to them and headed straight for the door to the boys’ dormitories; he was not in much of a mood for talking at the moment. Neville followed him.
Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan had reached the dormitory first and were in the process of covering the walls beside their beds with posters and photographs. They had been talking as Harry pushed open the door but stopped abruptly the moment they saw him. Harry wondered whether they had been talking about him, then whether he was being paranoid.
‘Hi,’ he said, moving across to his own trunk and opening it.
‘Hey, Harry,’ said Dean, who was putting on a pair of pyjamas in the West Ham colours. ‘Good holiday?’
There was a great clattering and banging all around them; Dumbledore had obviously just dismissed the school, because everyone was standing up ready to leave the Hall. Hermione jumped up, looking flustered.
‘Ron, we're supposed to show the first-years where to go!’
‘Oh yeah,’ said Ron, who had obviously forgotten. ‘Hey—hey, you lot! Midgets!’
‘Ron!’
‘Well, they are, they're titchy ...’
‘I know, but you can't call them midgets!—First-years!’ Hermione called commandingly along the table. ‘This way, please!’
A group of new students walked shyly up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, all of them trying hard not to lead the group. They did indeed seem very small; Harry was sure he had not appeared that young when he had arrived here. He grinned at them. A blond boy next to Euan Abercrombie looked petrified; he nudged Euan and whispered something in his ear. Euan Abercrombie looked equally frightened and stole a horrified look at Harry, who felt the grin slide off his face like Stinksap.
‘See you later,’ he said dully to Ron and Hermione and he made his way out of the Great Hall alone, doing everything he could to ignore more whispering, staring and pointing as he passed. He kept his eyes fixed ahead as he wove his way through the crowd in the Entrance Hall, then he hurried up the marble staircase, took a couple of concealed short cuts and had soon left most of the crowds behind.
He had been stupid not to expect this, he thought angrily as he walked through the much emptier upstairs corridors. Of course everyone was staring at him; he had emerged from the Triwizard maze two months previously clutching the dead body of a fellow student and claiming to have seen Lord Voldemort return to power. There had not been time last term to explain himself before they'd all had to go home—even if he had felt up to giving the whole school a detailed account of the terrible events in that graveyard.
Harry had reached the end of the corridor to the Gryffindor common room and come to a halt in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady before he realised that he did not know the new password.
‘Er ...’ he said glumly, staring up at the Fat Lady, who smoothed the folds of her pink satin dress and looked sternly back at him.
‘No password, no entrance,’ she said loftily.
‘Harry, I know it!’ Someone panted up behind him and he turned to see Neville jogging towards him. ‘Guess what it is? I'm actually going to be able to remember it for once— ’ He waved the stunted little cactus he had shown them on the train. ‘Mimbuius mimbletonia!’
‘Correct,’ said the Fat Lady, and her portrait swung open towards them like a door, revealing a circular hole in the wall behind, through which Harry and Neville now climbed.
The Gryffindor common room looked as welcoming as ever, a cosy circular tower room full of dilapidated squashy armchairs and rickety old tables. A fire was crackling merrily in the grate and a few people were warming their hands by it before going up to their dormitories; on the other side of the room Fred and George Weasley were pinning something up on the noticeboard. Harry waved goodnight to them and headed straight for the door to the boys’ dormitories; he was not in much of a mood for talking at the moment. Neville followed him.
Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan had reached the dormitory first and were in the process of covering the walls beside their beds with posters and photographs. They had been talking as Harry pushed open the door but stopped abruptly the moment they saw him. Harry wondered whether they had been talking about him, then whether he was being paranoid.
‘Hi,’ he said, moving across to his own trunk and opening it.
‘Hey, Harry,’ said Dean, who was putting on a pair of pyjamas in the West Ham colours. ‘Good holiday?’
‘Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast
‘Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices,’ said Dumbledore. ‘First-years ought to know that the Forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students—and a few of our older students ought to know by now, too.’ (Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged smirks.)
‘Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four-hundred-and-sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door.
‘We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.’
There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause, during which Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged slightly panicked looks; Dumbledore had not said for how long Grubbly-Plank would be teaching.
Dumbledore continued, ‘Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place on the—’
He broke off, looking enquiringly at Professor Umbridge. As she was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why Dumbledore had stopped talking, but then Professor Umbridge cleared her throat, ‘Hem, hem,’ and it became clear that she had got to her feet and was intending to make a speech.
Dumbledore only looked taken aback for a moment, then he sat down smartly and looked alertly at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing better than to listen to her talk. Other members of staff were not as adept at hiding their surprise. Professor Sprout's eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair and Professor McGonagall's mouth was as thin as Harry had ever seen it. No new teacher had ever interrupted Dumbledore before. Many of the students were smirking; this woman obviously did not know how things were done at Hogwarts.
‘Thank you, Headmaster,’ Professor Umbridge simpered, ‘for those kind words of welcome.’
Her voice was high-pitched, breathy and little-girlish and, again, Harry felt a powerful rush of dislike that he could not explain to himself; all he knew was that he loathed everything about her, from her stupid voice to her fluffy pink cardigan. She gave another little throat-clearing cough ('hem, hem') and continued.
‘Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!’ She smiled, revealing very pointed teeth. ‘And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!’
Harry glanced around. None of the faces he could see looked happy. On the contrary, they all looked rather taken-aback at being addressed as though they were five years old.
‘I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!’
Students exchanged looks at this; some of them were barely concealing grins.
‘I'll be her friend as long as I don't have to borrow that cardigan,’ Parvati whispered to Lavender, and both of them lapsed into silent giggles.
Professor Umbridge cleared her throat again ('hem, hem'), but when she continued, some of the breathiness had vanished from her voice. She sounded much more businesslike and now her words had a dull learned-by-heart sound to them.
The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we lose them for ever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching.’
Professor Umbridge paused here and made a little bow to her fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back to her. Professor McGonagall's dark eyebrows had contracted so that she looked positively hawklike, and Harry distinctly saw her exchange a significant glance with Professor Sprout as Umbridge gave another little ‘hem, hem’ and went on with her speech.
‘Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four-hundred-and-sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door.
‘We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.’
There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause, during which Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged slightly panicked looks; Dumbledore had not said for how long Grubbly-Plank would be teaching.
Dumbledore continued, ‘Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place on the—’
He broke off, looking enquiringly at Professor Umbridge. As she was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why Dumbledore had stopped talking, but then Professor Umbridge cleared her throat, ‘Hem, hem,’ and it became clear that she had got to her feet and was intending to make a speech.
Dumbledore only looked taken aback for a moment, then he sat down smartly and looked alertly at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing better than to listen to her talk. Other members of staff were not as adept at hiding their surprise. Professor Sprout's eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair and Professor McGonagall's mouth was as thin as Harry had ever seen it. No new teacher had ever interrupted Dumbledore before. Many of the students were smirking; this woman obviously did not know how things were done at Hogwarts.
‘Thank you, Headmaster,’ Professor Umbridge simpered, ‘for those kind words of welcome.’
Her voice was high-pitched, breathy and little-girlish and, again, Harry felt a powerful rush of dislike that he could not explain to himself; all he knew was that he loathed everything about her, from her stupid voice to her fluffy pink cardigan. She gave another little throat-clearing cough ('hem, hem') and continued.
‘Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!’ She smiled, revealing very pointed teeth. ‘And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!’
Harry glanced around. None of the faces he could see looked happy. On the contrary, they all looked rather taken-aback at being addressed as though they were five years old.
‘I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!’
Students exchanged looks at this; some of them were barely concealing grins.
‘I'll be her friend as long as I don't have to borrow that cardigan,’ Parvati whispered to Lavender, and both of them lapsed into silent giggles.
Professor Umbridge cleared her throat again ('hem, hem'), but when she continued, some of the breathiness had vanished from her voice. She sounded much more businesslike and now her words had a dull learned-by-heart sound to them.
The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we lose them for ever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching.’
Professor Umbridge paused here and made a little bow to her fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back to her. Professor McGonagall's dark eyebrows had contracted so that she looked positively hawklike, and Harry distinctly saw her exchange a significant glance with Professor Sprout as Umbridge gave another little ‘hem, hem’ and went on with her speech.
‘What were you saying before the Sorting?’
‘What were you saying before the Sorting?’ Hermione asked the ghost. ‘About the Hat giving warnings?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Nick, who seemed glad of a reason to turn away from Ron, who was now eating roast potatoes with almost indecent enthusiasm. ‘Yes, I have heard the Hat give several warnings before, always at times when it detects periods of great danger for the school. And always, of course, its advice is the same: stand together, be strong from within.’
‘Ow kunnit nofe skusin danger ifzat?’ said Ron.
His mouth was so full Harry thought it was quite an achievement for him to make any noise at all.
‘I beg your pardon?’ said Nearly Headless Nick politely, while Hermione looked revolted. Ron gave an enormous swallow and said, ‘How can it know if the school's in danger if it's a Hat?’
‘I have no idea,’ said Nearly Headless Nick. ‘Of course, it lives in Dumbledore's office, so I daresay it picks things up there.’
‘And it wants all the houses to be friends?’ said Harry, looking over at the Slytherin table, where Draco Malfoy was holding court. ‘Fat chance.’
‘Well, now, you shouldn't take that attitude,’ said Nick reprovingly. ‘Peaceful co-operation, that's the key. We ghosts, though we belong to separate houses, maintain links of friendship. In spite of the competitiveness between Gryffindor and Slytherin, I would never dream of seeking an argument with the Bloody Baron.’
‘Only because you're terrified of him,’ said Ron.
Nearly Headless Nick looked highly affronted.
‘Terrified? I hope I, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, have never been guilty of cowardice in my life! The noble blood that runs in my veins—’
‘What blood?’ asked Ron. ‘Surely you haven't still got—?’
‘It's a figure of speech!’ said Nearly Headless Nick, now so annoyed his head was trembling ominously on his partially severed neck. ‘I assume I am still allowed to enjoy the use of whichever words I like, even if the pleasures of eating and drinking are denied me! But I am quite used to students poking fun at my death, I assure you!’
‘Nick, he wasn't really laughing at you!’ said Hermione, throwing a furious look at Ron.
Unfortunately, Ron's mouth was packed to exploding point again and all he could manage was ‘Node iddum eentup sechew,’ which Nick did not seem to think constituted an adequate apology. Rising into the air, he straightened his feathered hat and swept away from them to the other end of the table, coming to rest between the Creevey brothers, Colin and Dennis.
‘Well done, Ron,’ snapped Hermione.
‘What?’ said Ron indignantly, having managed, finally, to swallow his food. ‘I'm not allowed to ask a simple question?’
‘Oh, forget it,’ said Hermione irritably, and the pair of them spent the rest of the meal in huffy silence.
Harry was too used to their bickering to bother trying to reconcile them; he felt it was a better use of his time to eat his way steadily through his steak and kidney pie, then a large plateful of his favourite treacle tart.
When all the students had finished eating and the noise level in the Hall was starting to creep upwards again, Dumbledore got to his feet once more. Talking ceased immediately as all turned to face the Headmaster. Harry was feeling pleasantly drowsy now. His four-poster bed was waiting somewhere above, wonderfully warm and soft ...
‘Oh, yes,’ said Nick, who seemed glad of a reason to turn away from Ron, who was now eating roast potatoes with almost indecent enthusiasm. ‘Yes, I have heard the Hat give several warnings before, always at times when it detects periods of great danger for the school. And always, of course, its advice is the same: stand together, be strong from within.’
‘Ow kunnit nofe skusin danger ifzat?’ said Ron.
His mouth was so full Harry thought it was quite an achievement for him to make any noise at all.
‘I beg your pardon?’ said Nearly Headless Nick politely, while Hermione looked revolted. Ron gave an enormous swallow and said, ‘How can it know if the school's in danger if it's a Hat?’
‘I have no idea,’ said Nearly Headless Nick. ‘Of course, it lives in Dumbledore's office, so I daresay it picks things up there.’
‘And it wants all the houses to be friends?’ said Harry, looking over at the Slytherin table, where Draco Malfoy was holding court. ‘Fat chance.’
‘Well, now, you shouldn't take that attitude,’ said Nick reprovingly. ‘Peaceful co-operation, that's the key. We ghosts, though we belong to separate houses, maintain links of friendship. In spite of the competitiveness between Gryffindor and Slytherin, I would never dream of seeking an argument with the Bloody Baron.’
‘Only because you're terrified of him,’ said Ron.
Nearly Headless Nick looked highly affronted.
‘Terrified? I hope I, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, have never been guilty of cowardice in my life! The noble blood that runs in my veins—’
‘What blood?’ asked Ron. ‘Surely you haven't still got—?’
‘It's a figure of speech!’ said Nearly Headless Nick, now so annoyed his head was trembling ominously on his partially severed neck. ‘I assume I am still allowed to enjoy the use of whichever words I like, even if the pleasures of eating and drinking are denied me! But I am quite used to students poking fun at my death, I assure you!’
‘Nick, he wasn't really laughing at you!’ said Hermione, throwing a furious look at Ron.
Unfortunately, Ron's mouth was packed to exploding point again and all he could manage was ‘Node iddum eentup sechew,’ which Nick did not seem to think constituted an adequate apology. Rising into the air, he straightened his feathered hat and swept away from them to the other end of the table, coming to rest between the Creevey brothers, Colin and Dennis.
‘Well done, Ron,’ snapped Hermione.
‘What?’ said Ron indignantly, having managed, finally, to swallow his food. ‘I'm not allowed to ask a simple question?’
‘Oh, forget it,’ said Hermione irritably, and the pair of them spent the rest of the meal in huffy silence.
Harry was too used to their bickering to bother trying to reconcile them; he felt it was a better use of his time to eat his way steadily through his steak and kidney pie, then a large plateful of his favourite treacle tart.
When all the students had finished eating and the noise level in the Hall was starting to creep upwards again, Dumbledore got to his feet once more. Talking ceased immediately as all turned to face the Headmaster. Harry was feeling pleasantly drowsy now. His four-poster bed was waiting somewhere above, wonderfully warm and soft ...
Sunday, November 14, 2010
The bell rang for the end of the lesson
. Overhead and all around came the elephantine sounds of hundreds of students on the move.
‘It says here she's given you detention every evening this week, starting tomorrow,’ Professor McGonagall said, looking down at Umbridge's note again.
‘Every evening this week!’ Harry repeated, horrified. ‘But, Professor, couldn't you—?’
‘No, I couldn't,’ said Professor McGonagall flatly.
‘But—’
‘She is your teacher and has every right to give you detention. You will go to her room at five o'clock tomorrow for the first one. Just remember: tread carefully around Dolores Umbridge.’
‘But I was telling the truth!’ said Harry, outraged. ‘Voldemort is back, you know he is; Professor Dumbledore knows he is—’
‘For heaven's sake, Potter!’ said Professor McGonagall, straightening her glasses angrily (she had winced horribly when he had used Voldemort's name). ‘Do you really think this is about truth or lies? It's about keeping your
head down and your temper under control!’
She stood up, nostrils wide and mouth very thin, and Harry stood up, too.
‘Have another biscuit,’ she said irritably, thrusting the tin at him.
‘No, thanks,’ said Harry coldly.
‘Don't be ridiculous,’ she snapped.
He took one.
‘Thanks,’ he said grudgingly.
‘Didn't you listen to Dolores Umbridge's speech at the start-of-term feast, Potter?’
‘Yeah,’ said Harry. ‘Yeah ... she said ... progress will be prohibited or ... well, it meant that ... that the Ministry of Magic is trying to interfere at Hogwarts.’
Professor McGonagall eyed him closely for a moment, then sniffed, walked around her desk and held open the door for him.
‘Well, I'm glad you listen to Hermione Granger at any rate,’ she said, pointing him out of her office.
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‘It says here she's given you detention every evening this week, starting tomorrow,’ Professor McGonagall said, looking down at Umbridge's note again.
‘Every evening this week!’ Harry repeated, horrified. ‘But, Professor, couldn't you—?’
‘No, I couldn't,’ said Professor McGonagall flatly.
‘But—’
‘She is your teacher and has every right to give you detention. You will go to her room at five o'clock tomorrow for the first one. Just remember: tread carefully around Dolores Umbridge.’
‘But I was telling the truth!’ said Harry, outraged. ‘Voldemort is back, you know he is; Professor Dumbledore knows he is—’
‘For heaven's sake, Potter!’ said Professor McGonagall, straightening her glasses angrily (she had winced horribly when he had used Voldemort's name). ‘Do you really think this is about truth or lies? It's about keeping your
head down and your temper under control!’
She stood up, nostrils wide and mouth very thin, and Harry stood up, too.
‘Have another biscuit,’ she said irritably, thrusting the tin at him.
‘No, thanks,’ said Harry coldly.
‘Don't be ridiculous,’ she snapped.
He took one.
‘Thanks,’ he said grudgingly.
‘Didn't you listen to Dolores Umbridge's speech at the start-of-term feast, Potter?’
‘Yeah,’ said Harry. ‘Yeah ... she said ... progress will be prohibited or ... well, it meant that ... that the Ministry of Magic is trying to interfere at Hogwarts.’
Professor McGonagall eyed him closely for a moment, then sniffed, walked around her desk and held open the door for him.
‘Well, I'm glad you listen to Hermione Granger at any rate,’ she said, pointing him out of her office.
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Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Schwarzenegger Makes Scapegoats of State Workers
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：127 UpdateTime：2008-10-19 1:31:37
On July 31st, Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger signed an order to lay off 22,000 temporary California state workers, and to cut the salaries of 200,000 permanent state workers. Under the order, the permanent state workers would have their salaries cut to a level equal to the federal minimum wage, $6.55 ($1.50 less than the California minimum wage). For some workers, this would represent a 90% cut in pay (Source: "California Labor Federation Spotlight," August 1, 2008).
California State Controller, John Chaing, has refused to obey the governors order and maintains that the state has sufficient funds to pay workers their full salaries through September. One union (SEIU), has filed a motion in Sacramento County Superior Court to stop the governors order from going into effect ("California Labor Federation Spotlight," August 1, 2008).
The governors proposed cuts in state workers salaries is a direct byproduct of a budget impasse between the Republican governor and the Democratic controlled state legislature. Under Schwarzeneggers proposed 2008-2009 fiscal year budget, there would be an across the board cut of 10%, including deep cuts in education and healthcare for the poor (Governors Budget 2008-2009).
Once again, we see an attempt by a politician to make public employees scapegoats for a bad economy. The reality is that these same employees are responsible for funding the education of our children, maintaining our highways, safeguarding our lives and property, and providing healthcare for the poor and the elderly. Rather than attacking state employees, the governor should ask wealthy individuals and big corporations to pay their fair share in taxes.
If allowed to go into effect, the governors plan will create major hardships for state employees and their families. How will these employees and their families pay their bills or provide for their childrens higher education? The last thing, it seems to me, a state would want to do in a declining economy is to drastically reduce the purchasing power of thousands of state employees. Such a plan will only result in less tax revenue for state and local government.
For those of you who live in California, please write the governor and your state legislators and let them know that you oppose the governors action in eliminating 22,000 state positions and in cutting the salaries of state workers. Now is the time for union members and their supporters to speak on behalf of our union brothers and sisters who work for the state of California.
On July 31st, Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger signed an order to lay off 22,000 temporary California state workers, and to cut the salaries of 200,000 permanent state workers. Under the order, the permanent state workers would have their salaries cut to a level equal to the federal minimum wage, $6.55 ($1.50 less than the California minimum wage). For some workers, this would represent a 90% cut in pay (Source: "California Labor Federation Spotlight," August 1, 2008).
California State Controller, John Chaing, has refused to obey the governors order and maintains that the state has sufficient funds to pay workers their full salaries through September. One union (SEIU), has filed a motion in Sacramento County Superior Court to stop the governors order from going into effect ("California Labor Federation Spotlight," August 1, 2008).
The governors proposed cuts in state workers salaries is a direct byproduct of a budget impasse between the Republican governor and the Democratic controlled state legislature. Under Schwarzeneggers proposed 2008-2009 fiscal year budget, there would be an across the board cut of 10%, including deep cuts in education and healthcare for the poor (Governors Budget 2008-2009).
Once again, we see an attempt by a politician to make public employees scapegoats for a bad economy. The reality is that these same employees are responsible for funding the education of our children, maintaining our highways, safeguarding our lives and property, and providing healthcare for the poor and the elderly. Rather than attacking state employees, the governor should ask wealthy individuals and big corporations to pay their fair share in taxes.
If allowed to go into effect, the governors plan will create major hardships for state employees and their families. How will these employees and their families pay their bills or provide for their childrens higher education? The last thing, it seems to me, a state would want to do in a declining economy is to drastically reduce the purchasing power of thousands of state employees. Such a plan will only result in less tax revenue for state and local government.
For those of you who live in California, please write the governor and your state legislators and let them know that you oppose the governors action in eliminating 22,000 state positions and in cutting the salaries of state workers. Now is the time for union members and their supporters to speak on behalf of our union brothers and sisters who work for the state of California.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Beauty of Marble Flooring and Granite Finish at home
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：109 UpdateTime：2008-10-19 1:14:10
Wonderful house with natural stones gives royal and decent look. Though for some time for glass and steel but using of natural stones specially marble and granite is back. It is the elegant style it holds the attention of many
people. Marble is used to express ones strength, wealth and grandeur. Natural stones are used for their longevity and durability. Once installed it is their mixing compound that save it from decaying. It protects the house form
many things. The stones can be used for countertops, wall, floor, mantle and slabs for kitchen. Green granite and black granite is often installed for kitchen slabs. For they have the power that stains are not collected easily. It
is also due to their spectrum colors they are used from soft beiges and pinks and classic black-and-whites to rich corals, greens, and multi-colors.
It is also due to their nice finish the natural stones are used. They can be polished, honed, or flamed for distinctive appearance. Polished finish has a glossy surface that reflects light and emphasis the color of the stone. They
are used for walls, furniture tops, and floor tiles. Honed finish is a satin-smooth surface with light reflection. Marble imparts sophisticated look with green marble having silicate base is not sensitive to citric acid and other
kitchen spills. For natural stones can be easily cleaned. It does not require much time in cleaning the natural stones. Then they are moisture ridden for those chances of accumulating moisture and providing pungent smell is
avoidable. Green marble, for example, loaded with serpentine, while red marble is the result of hematite mix. Yellow marble is full of limonite, and blue marble, dropsied. Stone makes a resilient and exquisite flooring material.
Marble is denser durable warm and soft is ideal for home. It is the aesthetics quality that marble is popular.
Marble are used for flooring also due to its greater susceptibility to scratching, etching and staining. White marbles like Italian Statuary, Calcuttas, Carrere Venation, Damascus Red and Breech de Vendome are quite popular.
Granite which is due to its hardness and resistance to heat are used in kitchen. It is also bacteria resistant kitchen surfaces, is not affected by citric acid, coffee, tea, alcohol, or wine. It is the chemical composition of granite
that it has the ability to withstand at any type of weather. For that granite is used for perfect finish at exterior of house such as cladding, paving, and curbing.
Marble flooring requires little care. Even if it is filled with dirt and grease the shine of marble remains the same. Marble with diamond ground honed and polished has always been like by all. Natural stones are not light
weighted for that their chances of breaking is also less. Though at beginning installation of natural stones is expensive but they are for life long. The immense beauty and attractive colors makes them superior from everything
else.
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Wonderful house with natural stones gives royal and decent look. Though for some time for glass and steel but using of natural stones specially marble and granite is back. It is the elegant style it holds the attention of many
people. Marble is used to express ones strength, wealth and grandeur. Natural stones are used for their longevity and durability. Once installed it is their mixing compound that save it from decaying. It protects the house form
many things. The stones can be used for countertops, wall, floor, mantle and slabs for kitchen. Green granite and black granite is often installed for kitchen slabs. For they have the power that stains are not collected easily. It
is also due to their spectrum colors they are used from soft beiges and pinks and classic black-and-whites to rich corals, greens, and multi-colors.
It is also due to their nice finish the natural stones are used. They can be polished, honed, or flamed for distinctive appearance. Polished finish has a glossy surface that reflects light and emphasis the color of the stone. They
are used for walls, furniture tops, and floor tiles. Honed finish is a satin-smooth surface with light reflection. Marble imparts sophisticated look with green marble having silicate base is not sensitive to citric acid and other
kitchen spills. For natural stones can be easily cleaned. It does not require much time in cleaning the natural stones. Then they are moisture ridden for those chances of accumulating moisture and providing pungent smell is
avoidable. Green marble, for example, loaded with serpentine, while red marble is the result of hematite mix. Yellow marble is full of limonite, and blue marble, dropsied. Stone makes a resilient and exquisite flooring material.
Marble is denser durable warm and soft is ideal for home. It is the aesthetics quality that marble is popular.
Marble are used for flooring also due to its greater susceptibility to scratching, etching and staining. White marbles like Italian Statuary, Calcuttas, Carrere Venation, Damascus Red and Breech de Vendome are quite popular.
Granite which is due to its hardness and resistance to heat are used in kitchen. It is also bacteria resistant kitchen surfaces, is not affected by citric acid, coffee, tea, alcohol, or wine. It is the chemical composition of granite
that it has the ability to withstand at any type of weather. For that granite is used for perfect finish at exterior of house such as cladding, paving, and curbing.
Marble flooring requires little care. Even if it is filled with dirt and grease the shine of marble remains the same. Marble with diamond ground honed and polished has always been like by all. Natural stones are not light
weighted for that their chances of breaking is also less. Though at beginning installation of natural stones is expensive but they are for life long. The immense beauty and attractive colors makes them superior from everything
else.
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Monday, November 8, 2010
The Benefits of a Colon Cleanse - Detoxification
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：40 UpdateTime：2008-10-19 0:51:20
"Not for me", you say "I am healthy as a horse", you say "I exercise and eat right", you say. So, how do you know when it's time for a colon cleanse? The short answer is that everyone needs a colon cleanse at least once, if not several times a year. The longer you go without fasting or a colon cleanse, the worse your colon will become. Many people are unaware of the fact that the colon was never designed to have food in it all the time. The FDA has publish reports stating on average people have between 5 to 22 pounds of fecal matter stuck in their colon.
A cleanse works to stimulate muscle activity in the colon. Increases in muscle activitiy will not only help to dislodge and remove impacted waste, it will also help restore proper tone your colon. For centuries, people around the world have used a variety of herbal ingredients to assist their bodies in eliminating toxins, mucous, and parasites from the colon. Your colon is the center of your health, so everything you consume comes in through your mouth and eventually passes through the colon. The secret to stellar health is a healthy digestive system, and the key to your digestion working efficiently begins with colon cleansing and a well-formulated daily multi-vitamin. Every organ, gland and cell is affected by the condition and maintenance of your colon. The blood that flows through every major organ comes from the colon.
The most important cleanse to do is a colon cleanse, because if you have a colon with an accumulation of impacted fecal matter will create extra toxins. As a result, the other organs have to continually prioritize between their main function and the elimination of toxins to maintain proper function. Many people believe that often problems that don't appear to be related to the colon often improve with colon cleansing. I encourage you to start a cleansing regiment as soon as you possibly can
"Not for me", you say "I am healthy as a horse", you say "I exercise and eat right", you say. So, how do you know when it's time for a colon cleanse? The short answer is that everyone needs a colon cleanse at least once, if not several times a year. The longer you go without fasting or a colon cleanse, the worse your colon will become. Many people are unaware of the fact that the colon was never designed to have food in it all the time. The FDA has publish reports stating on average people have between 5 to 22 pounds of fecal matter stuck in their colon.
A cleanse works to stimulate muscle activity in the colon. Increases in muscle activitiy will not only help to dislodge and remove impacted waste, it will also help restore proper tone your colon. For centuries, people around the world have used a variety of herbal ingredients to assist their bodies in eliminating toxins, mucous, and parasites from the colon. Your colon is the center of your health, so everything you consume comes in through your mouth and eventually passes through the colon. The secret to stellar health is a healthy digestive system, and the key to your digestion working efficiently begins with colon cleansing and a well-formulated daily multi-vitamin. Every organ, gland and cell is affected by the condition and maintenance of your colon. The blood that flows through every major organ comes from the colon.
The most important cleanse to do is a colon cleanse, because if you have a colon with an accumulation of impacted fecal matter will create extra toxins. As a result, the other organs have to continually prioritize between their main function and the elimination of toxins to maintain proper function. Many people believe that often problems that don't appear to be related to the colon often improve with colon cleansing. I encourage you to start a cleansing regiment as soon as you possibly can
Drinking Water Stations - Are They Safe?
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：45 UpdateTime：2008-10-19 0:51:44
When you arrive at work in the morning, what is the first thing that you do? Before I knew more information on the topic, my first stop at work was to the drinking water stations. You know the ones, you flip the lever and fill up your cup, and then the jug makes all the gurgling sounds as the air pressure readjusts. Instead of getting coffee in the morning, the drinking water stations were my first visit.
My main reason for doing this was to start my morning off right. I wanted to make sure that I was ingesting plenty of water because I knew how healthy that was for my body, so I headed to the drinking water stations several times a day. Little did I know that the likelihood that I was drinking contaminated drinking water was very high, and it is for you as well.
The problem with this scenario is that people are drinking the water from these drinking water stations with the assumption that this water has been purified and is safe and healthy to be drinking. People drink from these to avoid contaminated drinking water!
The problem with these drinking water stations and why you end up ingesting contaminated drinking water is that there are harmful chemicals, bacteria and heavy metals that are usually present in these containers.
Another hazard is that of the plastic containers that they come in. You may have heard the fuss that has come about recently with the byproducts from plastic bottles seeping into the actual drinking water.
Now I tried bringing this up with my employer, with the research that I had done, but they assured me that the company that they used for the water service would not use such unhealthy water in their drinking water stations. So I realized that I needed to take matters into my own hands.
This was for the best though, it made me realize that I needed to be drinking safe water both at work, and at home. The drinking water stations were not going to get any safer, and I didn't want contaminated drinking water to be a hazard at work and at home.
I researched a home water treatment system, purchased a sport bottle that has a built in water filter that I can refill as often as I like, and then also have begun utilizing glass containers for my drinking water. I realized how wasteful it was to be using water bottles, and became even more worried when I learned this water was no safer than that coming from my tap.
Amazingly, I began to feel the effects immediately. I feel more refreshed during the day with more energy, and I have not gotten my usual cold with the change in seasons, and I am drinking more water than ever, and feeling great.
When you arrive at work in the morning, what is the first thing that you do? Before I knew more information on the topic, my first stop at work was to the drinking water stations. You know the ones, you flip the lever and fill up your cup, and then the jug makes all the gurgling sounds as the air pressure readjusts. Instead of getting coffee in the morning, the drinking water stations were my first visit.
My main reason for doing this was to start my morning off right. I wanted to make sure that I was ingesting plenty of water because I knew how healthy that was for my body, so I headed to the drinking water stations several times a day. Little did I know that the likelihood that I was drinking contaminated drinking water was very high, and it is for you as well.
The problem with this scenario is that people are drinking the water from these drinking water stations with the assumption that this water has been purified and is safe and healthy to be drinking. People drink from these to avoid contaminated drinking water!
The problem with these drinking water stations and why you end up ingesting contaminated drinking water is that there are harmful chemicals, bacteria and heavy metals that are usually present in these containers.
Another hazard is that of the plastic containers that they come in. You may have heard the fuss that has come about recently with the byproducts from plastic bottles seeping into the actual drinking water.
Now I tried bringing this up with my employer, with the research that I had done, but they assured me that the company that they used for the water service would not use such unhealthy water in their drinking water stations. So I realized that I needed to take matters into my own hands.
This was for the best though, it made me realize that I needed to be drinking safe water both at work, and at home. The drinking water stations were not going to get any safer, and I didn't want contaminated drinking water to be a hazard at work and at home.
I researched a home water treatment system, purchased a sport bottle that has a built in water filter that I can refill as often as I like, and then also have begun utilizing glass containers for my drinking water. I realized how wasteful it was to be using water bottles, and became even more worried when I learned this water was no safer than that coming from my tap.
Amazingly, I began to feel the effects immediately. I feel more refreshed during the day with more energy, and I have not gotten my usual cold with the change in seasons, and I am drinking more water than ever, and feeling great.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Become a Currency Trader - How to Trade For a Living in 3 Simple Steps
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：39 UpdateTime：2008-10-18 23:55:17
Can you really trade for a living? The answer is yes and you don't need have a college education to do it anyone can but you must follow the steps enclosed - if you do you could enjoy spectacular success...
To succeed and become a currency trader, you don't need to work hard, you need to work smart and have the right mindset. Now, let me tell you a story that will inspire you.
To prove that anyone could learn to trade with the right education and mindset, trading legend Richard Dennis, taught a group of people with no experience to trade in just 14 days. He then gave them trading accounts and they made 100 million dollars in 4 years.
So anyone can learn, yet 95% of traders lose their money. This isn't because they can't learn; it's because they don't understand what is needed to succeed. Let's look at our 3 simple steps to becoming a currency trader.
Step 1 Understand Mind is as important as Method
Most traders don't get the right mindset from the start and think someone else can lead them to success but this isn't true.
You have to accept responsibility and do it on your own. This means working smart, learning the right information and developing confidence in what you do. You need to know, why you will succeed and have confidence which will give you the discipline, to follow a trading system, even when it losses.
This is EXACTLY What Richard Dennis did in his experiment; he taught the pupils why the system worked and didn't just ask them to follow it. He knew they would have to trade through losing periods and they could only do that if they were disciplined.
Step 2 Get a Simple System
Forget about being complicated the simpler a system is the better it's likely to work, as it's more robust, than a complicated one with fewer elements to break.
The system Dennis taught, was a simple long term breakout system and this is an excellent choice. We have written on breakout systems frequently, so look up our other articles.
All you need is a simple system and the mindset to apply it, with strict money management.
Step 3 Get the Skills to Succeed
The skills you need to succeed in forex trading are very different to the ones you need in many occupations and you need to be aware of them.
- You need to lose cheerfully and stay on course
- You need to isolate yourself from the majority opinion as the majority losses
- You need to make and live by your own rules to survive
- You need to be patient and disciplined at all times and keep your emotions in check.
Forex trading is all about having the right mindset, learning a system is easy applying it is the hard part.
You Can Enjoy Currency Trading Success
You can become a currency trader from home and trade for a living but you must put the effort in to learn from the ground up and then have the mindset to apply your plan.
If you can do the above, you could soon be earning a great second income, or even a life changing one in the worlds most exciting and lucrative business.
Can you really trade for a living? The answer is yes and you don't need have a college education to do it anyone can but you must follow the steps enclosed - if you do you could enjoy spectacular success...
To succeed and become a currency trader, you don't need to work hard, you need to work smart and have the right mindset. Now, let me tell you a story that will inspire you.
To prove that anyone could learn to trade with the right education and mindset, trading legend Richard Dennis, taught a group of people with no experience to trade in just 14 days. He then gave them trading accounts and they made 100 million dollars in 4 years.
So anyone can learn, yet 95% of traders lose their money. This isn't because they can't learn; it's because they don't understand what is needed to succeed. Let's look at our 3 simple steps to becoming a currency trader.
Step 1 Understand Mind is as important as Method
Most traders don't get the right mindset from the start and think someone else can lead them to success but this isn't true.
You have to accept responsibility and do it on your own. This means working smart, learning the right information and developing confidence in what you do. You need to know, why you will succeed and have confidence which will give you the discipline, to follow a trading system, even when it losses.
This is EXACTLY What Richard Dennis did in his experiment; he taught the pupils why the system worked and didn't just ask them to follow it. He knew they would have to trade through losing periods and they could only do that if they were disciplined.
Step 2 Get a Simple System
Forget about being complicated the simpler a system is the better it's likely to work, as it's more robust, than a complicated one with fewer elements to break.
The system Dennis taught, was a simple long term breakout system and this is an excellent choice. We have written on breakout systems frequently, so look up our other articles.
All you need is a simple system and the mindset to apply it, with strict money management.
Step 3 Get the Skills to Succeed
The skills you need to succeed in forex trading are very different to the ones you need in many occupations and you need to be aware of them.
- You need to lose cheerfully and stay on course
- You need to isolate yourself from the majority opinion as the majority losses
- You need to make and live by your own rules to survive
- You need to be patient and disciplined at all times and keep your emotions in check.
Forex trading is all about having the right mindset, learning a system is easy applying it is the hard part.
You Can Enjoy Currency Trading Success
You can become a currency trader from home and trade for a living but you must put the effort in to learn from the ground up and then have the mindset to apply your plan.
If you can do the above, you could soon be earning a great second income, or even a life changing one in the worlds most exciting and lucrative business.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Wedding Dress Picture Pattern
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：49 UpdateTime：2008-10-18 23:26:04
There are literally thousands of wedding gowns that a new bride can choose from. Brides can choose to have a traditional wedding gown or a modern form-fitting gown made of satin with sequin or pearl decorations. No matter what the bride decides, she will most likely have to visit a wedding gown dealer.
When visiting the wedding gown salon or boutique of your choice, you should make sure that you know what your wedding theme is going to be. You should also not hesitate to let the wedding salon know that you have a certain budget. Make sure that you have a wedding dress picture with you depicting you favorite wedding gown. You may have to look through several magazines and clip out several wedding dress pictures to see if they have that particular style of something similar. It is true that with most bridal salons you will get a free consultation. The wedding consultant will give you suggestions on style and fit based on your body type and age. There may be a beautiful wedding dress picture that looks absolutely stunning, but it may not look as good on you.
You would choose a wedding dress pattern in much the same way as you would choose a wedding gown from a designer boutique. Try to find a style that suits your body type and your taste. There is one thing you should keep in mind. You will not be able to try on the dress before your purchase it in the way that you would if you were shopping at a bridal salon. Keeping this in mind, try to choose a style that you know would look just perfect on you. One of the best ways to find just the right pattern is to go to the websites of different pattern makers or call them to request that a catalog be sent of their wedding dress patterns. When you finally have all of the catalogs, start thumbing through them until you find just the right dress for you. Remember that once you have chosen the pattern and cut the fabric there is no turning back.
The next question you may ask is where you would find a wedding dress pattern. You should go to a fabric store to familiarize yourself with the different pattern makers.
Simplicity Patterns has been around for generations. It would only make sense that they would have some beautiful wedding dress patterns. Vogue Patterns also offers a small selection of wedding dress patterns. They range from a full skirted gown to strapless styles that will make you feel like a princess. McCalls is a very trusted name and has a great selection of wedding dress patterns as well. You will not only be able to find elegant wedding gowns but simple, casual styles as well. In McCalls, you can even find wedding veil patterns.
There are literally thousands of wedding gowns that a new bride can choose from. Brides can choose to have a traditional wedding gown or a modern form-fitting gown made of satin with sequin or pearl decorations. No matter what the bride decides, she will most likely have to visit a wedding gown dealer.
When visiting the wedding gown salon or boutique of your choice, you should make sure that you know what your wedding theme is going to be. You should also not hesitate to let the wedding salon know that you have a certain budget. Make sure that you have a wedding dress picture with you depicting you favorite wedding gown. You may have to look through several magazines and clip out several wedding dress pictures to see if they have that particular style of something similar. It is true that with most bridal salons you will get a free consultation. The wedding consultant will give you suggestions on style and fit based on your body type and age. There may be a beautiful wedding dress picture that looks absolutely stunning, but it may not look as good on you.
You would choose a wedding dress pattern in much the same way as you would choose a wedding gown from a designer boutique. Try to find a style that suits your body type and your taste. There is one thing you should keep in mind. You will not be able to try on the dress before your purchase it in the way that you would if you were shopping at a bridal salon. Keeping this in mind, try to choose a style that you know would look just perfect on you. One of the best ways to find just the right pattern is to go to the websites of different pattern makers or call them to request that a catalog be sent of their wedding dress patterns. When you finally have all of the catalogs, start thumbing through them until you find just the right dress for you. Remember that once you have chosen the pattern and cut the fabric there is no turning back.
The next question you may ask is where you would find a wedding dress pattern. You should go to a fabric store to familiarize yourself with the different pattern makers.
Simplicity Patterns has been around for generations. It would only make sense that they would have some beautiful wedding dress patterns. Vogue Patterns also offers a small selection of wedding dress patterns. They range from a full skirted gown to strapless styles that will make you feel like a princess. McCalls is a very trusted name and has a great selection of wedding dress patterns as well. You will not only be able to find elegant wedding gowns but simple, casual styles as well. In McCalls, you can even find wedding veil patterns.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Having A Good Heart and Healthy Aging
As we grow older we, experience higher risks of heart disease, cholesterol increase, weaken joints, muscles, and so on. Most people who experience illnesses often feel frustrated and experience feelings of despair. People
who suffer illnesses or tragedies unfortunately set themselves up, saying, "It can't happen to me." It can happen to any of us, which is why we should take the steps in our youth to prevent illnesses and tragedies.
Many of us fail to take the steps in our youth. It hinders us to a large degree, yet we have options regardless of what we endure.
According to experts in aging and heart disease is rising higher these days than ever. The aging progression alone slowly builds up through impulsive changes of the body and mind. The maturity phase carries on starting at
childhood as the person works through puberty, teenage and so on. At this time the body and minds starts to decline. As the person reaches mid-age or moves into advanced aging, the person starts to decline its natural
physical functions.
Aging alone starts as we are born and carries throughout our life. Through the process, the body has positive reflections on our bodily components and development, yet as we age negative effects take fold, which include
the declining phase.
According to experts in medicine, no one can determine when our body becomes aged. At one time people 65 and older where considered the aged, yet today people are working further on than 65 years of age. In short,
people are working in the 70s, 80s and even 90 years of age today, which returned a different view on the aged.
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Still, millions of American citizens are falling victim to heart disease, strokes, etc. What can they do?
How to relieve emotional strikes after a heart attack: If you've experienced a heart attack, likely you feel frustrated, hopeless, etc. The emotions are common after any illnesses, yet you must take steps to control these
negative emotions, since it only causes stress on your body. The stress will wear you down and perhaps lead to another heart attack. Let's stop it now. After illnesses, including heart attack learn to focus on the day, instead
of yesterday and tomorrow. You only have control of each day you live. Instead of sweating weeks ahead, try doing something you enjoy. Walking is a great way to reduce the risks of heart attacks. You can also visit friends or
family members that make you feel good about you.
Support is essential. If you have support, you will have friends and family members who will open their minds to your feelings. You should never allow your feelings to linger in your own mind without expressing what you feel.
Express your feelings to people you trust. Take time to listen to them and let these people know what you need. For instance, if you just need a friendly ear, then let them know. Holding back emotions leads to soaring
complications. If you can find support groups in your area that is experiencing the same thing as you, then join the team. The support will help you to share information with people who understand what you are going through.
It is frustrating to express feelings with people who have not experienced similar illnesses or experiences as you. Try to find someone that you can relate to and speak your feelings.
Exercise: Exercise is the leading element we have offered to us in life that helps to reduce any disease, emotional reactions and so on. When you sit around feeling anxious, depressed, or despaired, you are working toward
worse health conditions. Reverse your actions and take the steps to live longer by exercising each day.
who suffer illnesses or tragedies unfortunately set themselves up, saying, "It can't happen to me." It can happen to any of us, which is why we should take the steps in our youth to prevent illnesses and tragedies.
Many of us fail to take the steps in our youth. It hinders us to a large degree, yet we have options regardless of what we endure.
According to experts in aging and heart disease is rising higher these days than ever. The aging progression alone slowly builds up through impulsive changes of the body and mind. The maturity phase carries on starting at
childhood as the person works through puberty, teenage and so on. At this time the body and minds starts to decline. As the person reaches mid-age or moves into advanced aging, the person starts to decline its natural
physical functions.
Aging alone starts as we are born and carries throughout our life. Through the process, the body has positive reflections on our bodily components and development, yet as we age negative effects take fold, which include
the declining phase.
According to experts in medicine, no one can determine when our body becomes aged. At one time people 65 and older where considered the aged, yet today people are working further on than 65 years of age. In short,
people are working in the 70s, 80s and even 90 years of age today, which returned a different view on the aged.
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Still, millions of American citizens are falling victim to heart disease, strokes, etc. What can they do?
How to relieve emotional strikes after a heart attack: If you've experienced a heart attack, likely you feel frustrated, hopeless, etc. The emotions are common after any illnesses, yet you must take steps to control these
negative emotions, since it only causes stress on your body. The stress will wear you down and perhaps lead to another heart attack. Let's stop it now. After illnesses, including heart attack learn to focus on the day, instead
of yesterday and tomorrow. You only have control of each day you live. Instead of sweating weeks ahead, try doing something you enjoy. Walking is a great way to reduce the risks of heart attacks. You can also visit friends or
family members that make you feel good about you.
Support is essential. If you have support, you will have friends and family members who will open their minds to your feelings. You should never allow your feelings to linger in your own mind without expressing what you feel.
Express your feelings to people you trust. Take time to listen to them and let these people know what you need. For instance, if you just need a friendly ear, then let them know. Holding back emotions leads to soaring
complications. If you can find support groups in your area that is experiencing the same thing as you, then join the team. The support will help you to share information with people who understand what you are going through.
It is frustrating to express feelings with people who have not experienced similar illnesses or experiences as you. Try to find someone that you can relate to and speak your feelings.
Exercise: Exercise is the leading element we have offered to us in life that helps to reduce any disease, emotional reactions and so on. When you sit around feeling anxious, depressed, or despaired, you are working toward
worse health conditions. Reverse your actions and take the steps to live longer by exercising each day.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Rogue Spyware-Remove Virus Remover 2008 from Your PC
Virus Remover 2008 is one of the recent rogue anti-spyware, which is spreading its ill effects very rapidly. Hundreds of PCs are being infected by this deadly piece of software daily, crippling them to their knees. The main aim
of this rogue software is to steal your money. This article is written to let you know the true picture of Virus Remover 2008 and alert you not let it make it to your system.
But, do you know, what is a rogue anti-spyware?
You know spyware programs and Anti-spyware programs very well. Spyware try to spy upon your privacy and security, while Anti-spyware programs try to block spyware.
But there is a third type of programs, which are actually spyware, but they pretend as if they are Anti-spyware programs, to get entry into your system. They have fancy websites and when they come in touch with your system,
they display fake warning messages that your system is infected with many malware and spyware. Then they offer to clean your system, if you purchase the licensed version of them.
Many people get tricked by them. They make the payments and get a piece of rogue software in return. This software tries to install more malware in your system, instead of cleaning it.
Virus Remover 2008 is also a similar type of malware. If you have got any trace of Virus Remover 2008, we recommend you to immediately get rid of it so as to protect you system from further harms.
How to remove Virus Remover 2008?
First of all you need to scan your system whether it is actually infected with Virus Remover 2008. If your system has got any trace of it, then you can either remove it manually by following step-by-step instructions available on
Internet at many sites. Just search for them.
But it is a risky method. It should be tried by those people, who are comfortable with the Windows Processes and Registry Keys. If you are not sure about them, then it is better to use a good quality Anti-Spyware. If you want
to manually remove Virus Remover 2008, then there are basically four steps involved.
1. Stop all the Windows Processes associated with it. For this you have to open the Windows Task Manager and open the Processes Tab and find the Processes associated with it.
2. Delete the files associated with Virus Remover 2008. Before proceeding for this step, you should search for which files are associated with it.
3. Delete the DLL files associated with it.
4. Delete the registry keys. This is the most important step, which you need to execute with utmost care. Windows Registry is an important area of your system, and you should handle it extreme care. You should search for
the exact Registry Keys associate with Virus Remover 2008 and then delete them.
of this rogue software is to steal your money. This article is written to let you know the true picture of Virus Remover 2008 and alert you not let it make it to your system.
But, do you know, what is a rogue anti-spyware?
You know spyware programs and Anti-spyware programs very well. Spyware try to spy upon your privacy and security, while Anti-spyware programs try to block spyware.
But there is a third type of programs, which are actually spyware, but they pretend as if they are Anti-spyware programs, to get entry into your system. They have fancy websites and when they come in touch with your system,
they display fake warning messages that your system is infected with many malware and spyware. Then they offer to clean your system, if you purchase the licensed version of them.
Many people get tricked by them. They make the payments and get a piece of rogue software in return. This software tries to install more malware in your system, instead of cleaning it.
Virus Remover 2008 is also a similar type of malware. If you have got any trace of Virus Remover 2008, we recommend you to immediately get rid of it so as to protect you system from further harms.
How to remove Virus Remover 2008?
First of all you need to scan your system whether it is actually infected with Virus Remover 2008. If your system has got any trace of it, then you can either remove it manually by following step-by-step instructions available on
Internet at many sites. Just search for them.
But it is a risky method. It should be tried by those people, who are comfortable with the Windows Processes and Registry Keys. If you are not sure about them, then it is better to use a good quality Anti-Spyware. If you want
to manually remove Virus Remover 2008, then there are basically four steps involved.
1. Stop all the Windows Processes associated with it. For this you have to open the Windows Task Manager and open the Processes Tab and find the Processes associated with it.
2. Delete the files associated with Virus Remover 2008. Before proceeding for this step, you should search for which files are associated with it.
3. Delete the DLL files associated with it.
4. Delete the registry keys. This is the most important step, which you need to execute with utmost care. Windows Registry is an important area of your system, and you should handle it extreme care. You should search for
the exact Registry Keys associate with Virus Remover 2008 and then delete them.
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